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STORIES  BY  ENGLISH  AUTHORS 


AFRICA 


STORIES  BY 
ENGLISH  AUTHORS 


AFRICA 

••• 

THE    MYSTERY     OF    SASASSA 

VALLEY BY  A.  CONAN  DOYLE 

LONG  ODDS BY  H.  RIDER  HAGGARD 

KING  BEMBA'S  POINT      .     .     .  BY  J.  LANDERS 

GHAMBA BY  W.  C.  SCULLY 

MARY  MUSGRAVE ANONYMOUS 

GREGORIO ,      ,     .  BY  PERCY  HEMINGWAY 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1901 


Copyright,  1896,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


THE  CAXTON  PRESS 
NEW  YORK. 


. 

•Library 


! 
PUBLISHERS'   NOTE 

THE  stories  in  this  volume  are  published  by 
arrangement  with  the  authors  or  their  pub- 
lishers. Special  acknowledgments  are  due 
The  American  Publisher's  Corporation  for  the 
right  to  reprint  A.  Conan  Doyle's  story,  "The 
Mystery  of  Sasassa  Valley";  to  Messrs.  Long- 
mans, Green  &  Co.  for  Mr.  Haggard's  story, 
"Long  Odds,"  and  to  Messrs.  Henry  Holt  & 
Co.  for  Mr.  Scully's  story,  "Ghamba." 


842375 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  MYSTERY  OP  SASASSA  VALLEY,  A.  Conan  Doyle.      9 

LONG  ODDS H.  Rider  Haggard    31 

KING  BEMBA'S  POINT J.  Landers 57 

GHAMBA W.  C.  Scully 95 

MARY  MUSGRAVE Anonymous 129 

GRBOORIO Percy  Hemingway  mi 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA 
VALLEY 

BY 

A.  CONAN  DOYLE 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY 

BY   A.    CONAN    DOYLE 

DO  I  know  why  Tom  Donahue  is  called  "  Lucky 
Tom"?  Yes,  I  do;  and  that  is  more  than 
one  in  ten  of  those  who  call  him  so  can  say.  I 
have  knocked  about  a  deal  in  my  time,  and  seen 
some  strange  sights,  but  none  stranger  than  the 
way  in  which  Tom  gained  that  sobriquet,  and  his 
fortune  with  it.  For  I  was  with  him  at  the  time. 
Tell  it?  Oh,  certainly;  but  it  is  a  longish  story 
and  a  very  strange  one ;  so  fill  up  your  glass  again, 
and  light  another  cigar,  while  I  try  to  reel  it  off. 
Yes,  a  very  strange  one ;  beats  some  fairy  stories 
I  have  heard ;  but  it  's  true,  sir,  every  word  of  it. 
There  are  men  alive  at  Cape  Colony  now  who  '11 
remember  it  and  confirm  what  I  say.  Many  a  time 
has  the  tale  been  told  round  the  fire  in  Boers'  cab- 
ins from  Orange  State  to  Griqualand ;  yes,  and  out 
in  the  bush  and  at  the  diamond-fields  too. 

I  'm  roughish  now,  sir ;  but  I  was  entered  at  the 
Middle  Temple  once,  and  studied  for  the  bar. 
Tom — worse  luck! — was  one  of  my  fellow-stu- 
dents ;  and  a  wildish  time  we  had  of  it,  until  at 
last  our  finances  ran  short,  and  we  were  compelled 
to  give  up  our  so-called  studies,  and  look  about  for 
some  part  of  the  world  where  two  young  fellows 


12     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

with  strong  arms  and  sound  constitutions  might 
make  their  mark.  In  those  days  the  tide  of  emi- 
gration had  scarcely  begun  to  set  in  toward  Africa, 
and  so  we  thought  our  best  chance  would  be  down 
at  Cape  Colony.  Well,— to  make  a  long  story  short, 
— we  set  sail,  and  were  deposited  in  Cape  Town 
with  less  than  five  pounds  in  our  pockets;  and 
there  we  parted.  We  each  tried  our  hands  at 
many  things,  and  had  ups  and  downs ;  but  when, 
at  the  end  of  three  years,  chance  led  each  of  us 
up-country  and  we  met  again,  we  were,  I  regret  to 
say,  in  almost  as  bad  a  plight  as  when  we  started. 
Well,  this  was  not  much  of  a  commencement ; 
and  very  disheartened  we  were,  so  disheartened 
that  Tom  spoke  of  going  back  to  England  and 
getting  a  clerkship.  For  you  see  we  did  n't  know 
that  we  had  played  out  all  our  small  cards,  and 
that  the  trumps  were  going  to  turn  up.  No ;  we 
thought  our  "hands"  were  bad  all  through.  It 
was  a  very  lonely  part  of  the  country  that  we  were 
in,  inhabited  by  a  few  scattered  fanners,  whose 
houses  were  stockaded  and  fenced  in  to  defend 
them  against  the  Kaffirs.  Tom  Donahue  and  I 
had  a  little  hut  right  out  in  the  bush ;  but  we  were 
known  to  possess  nothing,  and  to  be  handy  with 
our  revolvers,  so  we  had  little  to  fear.  There  we 
waited,  doing  odd  jobs,  and  hoping  that  something 
would  turn  up.  Well,  after  we  had  been  there 
about  a  month  something  did  turn  up  upon  a  cer- 
tain night,  something  which  was  the  making  of 
both  of  us ;  and  it 's  about  that  night,  sir,  that  I  'm 


THE   MYSTERY   OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.  13 

going  to  tell  you.  I  remember  it  well.  The  wind 
was  howling  past  our  cabin,  and  the  rain  threat- 
ened to  burst  in  our  rude  window.  We  had  a  great 
wood  fire  crackling  and  sputtering  on  the  hearth, 
by  which  I  was  sitting  mending  a  whip,  while  Tom 
was  lying  in  his  bunk  groaning  disconsolately  at  the 
chance  which  had  led  him  to  such  a  place. 

"  Cheer  up,  Tom — cheer  up,"  said  I.  "  No 
man  ever  knows  what  may  be  awaiting  him." 

" 111  luck,  ill  luck,  Jack,"  he  answered.  "I  al- 
ways was  an  unlucky  dog.  Here  have  I  been 
three  years  in  this  abominable  country ;  and  I  see 
lads  fresh  from  England  jingling  the  money  in 
their  pockets,  while  I  am  as  poor  as  when  I 
landed.  Ah,  Jack,  if  you  want  to  keep  your  head 
above  water,  old  friend,  you  must  try  your  fortune 
away  from  me." 

"  Nonsense,  Tom ;  you  're  down  in  your  luck 
to-night.  But  hark!  Here  's  some  one  coming 
outside.  Dick  Wharton,  by  the  tread ;  he  '11  rouse 
you,  if  any  man  can." 

Even  as  I  spoke  the  door  was  flung  open,  and 
honest  Dick  Wharton,  with  the  water  pouring 
from  him,  stepped  in,  his  hearty  red  face  looming 
through  the  haze  like  a  harvest-moon.  He  shook 
himself,  and  after  greeting  us  sat  down  by  the  fire 
to  warm  himself. 

"Where  away,  Dick,  on  such  a  night  as  this?" 
said  I.  "  You  '11  find  the  rheumatism  a  worse  foe 
than  the  Kaffirs,  unless  you  keep  more  regular 
hours." 


14     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

Dick  was  looking  unusually  serious,  almost 
frightened,  one  would  say,  if  one  did  not  know 
the  man.  "  Had  to  go,"  he  replied—"  had  to  go. 
One  of  Madison's  cattle  was  seen  straying  down 
Sasassa  Valley,  and  of  course  none  of  our  blacks 
would  go  down  that  valley  at  night;  and  if  we 
had  waited  till  morning,  the  brute  would  have 
been  in  Kaffirland." 

"  Why  would  n't  they  go  down  Sasassa  Valley 
at  night?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Kaffirs,  I  suppose,"  said  I. 

"  Ghosts,"  said  Dick. 

We  both  laughed. 

"  I  suppose  they  did  n't  give  such  a  matter-of- 
fact  fellow  as  you  a  sight  of  their  charms  ?  "  said 
Tom,  from  the  bunk. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  seriously,  "  yes ;  I  saw  what 
the  niggers  talk  about ;  and  I  promise  you,  lads,  I 
don't  want  ever  to  see  it  again." 

Tom  sat  up  in  his  bed.  "  Nonsense,  Dick ; 
you  're  joking,  man !  Come,  tell  us  all  about  it ; 
the  legend  first,  and  your  own  experience  after- 
ward. Pass  him  over  the  bottle,  Jack." 

"Well,  as  to  the  legend,"  began  Dick.  "It 
seems  that  the  niggers  have  had  it  handed  down 
to  them  that  that  Sasassa  Valley  is  haunted  by  a 
frightful  fiend.  Hunters  and  wanderers  passing 
down  the  defile  have  seen  its  glowing  eyes  under 
the  shadows  of  the  cliff;  and  the  story  goes  that 
whoever  has  chanced  to  encounter  that  baleful 
glare  has  had  his  after-life  blighted  by  the  malig- 


THE    MYSTERY   OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.  15 

nant  power  of  this  creature.  Whether  that  be  true 
or  not,"  continued  Dick,  ruefully,  "  I  may  have  an 
opportunity  of  judging  for  myself." 

"  Go  on,  Dick— go  on,"  cried  Tom.  "  Let  's 
hear  about  what  you  saw." 

"  Well,  I  was  groping  down  the  valley,  looking 
for  that  cow  of  Madison's,  and  I  had,  I  suppose, 
got  half-way  down,  where  a  black  craggy  cliff  juts 
into  the  ravine  on  the  right,  when  I  halted  to  have 
a  pull  at  my  flask.  I  had  my  eye  fixed  at  the  time 
upon  the  projecting  cliff  I  have  mentioned,  and 
noticed  nothing  unusual  about  it.  I  then  put  up 
my  flask  and  took  a  step  or  two  forward,  when  in 
a  moment  there  burst,  apparently  from  the  base  of 
the  rock,  about  eight  feet  from  the  ground  and  a 
hundred  yards  from  me,  a  strange,  lurid  glare, 
flickering  and  oscillating,  gradually  dying  away 
and  then  reappearing  again.  No,  no ;  I  Ve  seen 
many  a  glow-worm  and  firefly— nothing  of  that 
sort.  There  it  was,  burning  away,  and  I  suppose 
I  gazed  at  it,  trembling  in  every  limb,  for  fully  ten 
minutes.  Then  I  took  a  step  forward,  when  in- 
stantly it  vanished,  vanished  like  a  candle  blown 
out.  I  stepped  back  again ;  but  it  was  some  time 
before  I  could  find  the  exact  spot  and  position  from 
which  it  was  visible.  At  last,  there  it  was,  the 
weird  reddish  light,  flickering  away  as  before. 
Then  I  screwed  up  my  courage,  and  made  for  the 
rock ;  but  the  ground  was  so  uneven  that  it  was 
impossible  to  steer  straight ;  and  though  I  walked 
along  the  whole  base  of  the  cliff,  I  could  see  noth- 


1 6     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

ing.  Then  I  made  tracks  for  home;  and  I  can 
tell  you,  boys,  that,  until  you  remarked  it,  I  never 
knew  it  was  raining,  the  whole  way  along.  But 
hollo!  what  's  the  matter  with  Tom?  " 

What  indeed?  Tom  was  now  sitting  with  his 
legs  over  the  side  of  the  bunk,  and  his  whole  face 
betraying  excitement  so  intense  as  to  be  almost 
painful.  "  The  fiend  would  have  two  eyes.  How 
many  lights  did  you  see,  Dick?  Speak  out!" 

"  Only  one." 

"  Hurrah ! "  cried  Tom,  "  that 's  better."  Where- 
upon he  kicked  the  blankets  into  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  began  pacing  up  and  down  with  long, 
feverish  strides.  Suddenly  he  stopped  opposite 
Dick,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "I 
say,  Dick,  could  we  get  to  Sasassa  Valley  before 
sunrise?  " 

"  Scarcely,"  said  Dick. 

"Well,  look  here;  we  are  old  friends,  Dick 
Wharton,  you  and  I.  Now  don't  you  tell  any  other 
man  what  you  have  told  us,  for  a  week.  You  '11 
promise  that,  won't  you?  " 

I  could  see  by  the  look  on  Dick's  face  as  he  ac- 
quiesced that  he  considered  poor  Tom  to  be  mad ; 
and  indeed  I  was  myself  completely  mystified  by 
his  conduct.  I  had,  however,  seen  so  many  proofs 
of  my  friend's  good  sense  and  quickness  of  appre- 
hension that  I  thought  it  quite  possible  that 
Wharton's  story  had  had  a  meaning  in  his  eyes 
which  I  was  too  obtuse  to  take  in. 

All  night  Tom  Donahue  was  greatly  excited, 


THE    MYSTERY   OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.  17 

and  when  Wharton  left  he  begged  him  to  remem- 
ber his  promise,  and  also  elicited  from  him  a  de- 
scription of  the  exact  spot  at  which  he  had  seen  the 
apparition,  as  well  as  the  hour  at  which  it  appeared. 
After  his  departure,  which  must  have  been  about 
four  in  the  morning,  I  turned  into  my  bunk  and 
watched  Tom  sitting  by  the  fire  splicing  two  sticks 
together,  until  I  fell  asleep.  I  suppose  I  must 
have  slept  about  two  hours;  but  when  I  awoke 
Tom  was  still  sitting  working  away  in  almost  the 
same  position.  He  had  fixed  the  one  stick  across 
the  top  of  the  other  so  as  to  form  a  rough  T,  and 
was  now  busy  in  fitting  a  smaller  stick  into  the 
angle  between  them,  by  manipulating  which,  the 
cross  one  could  be  either  cocked  up  or  depressed 
to  any  extent.  He  had  cut  notches,  too,  in  the 
perpendicular  stick,  so  that,  by  the  aid  of  the  small 
prop,  the  cross  one  could  be  kept  in  any  position 
for  an  indefinite  time. 

"Look  here,  Jack!"  he  cried,  when  he  saw 
that  I  was  awake.  "  Come  and  give  me  your 
opinion.  Suppose  I  put  this  cross-stick  pointing 
straight  at  a  thing,  and  arranged  this  small  one  so 
as  to  keep  it  so,  and  left  it,  I  could  find  that  thing 
again  if  I  wanted  it — don't  you  think  I  could, 
Jack — don't  you  think  so?  "  he  continued,  ner- 
vously, clutching  me  by  the  arm. 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "  it  would  depend  on  how 
far  off  the  thing  was,  and  how  accurately  it  was 
pointed.  If  it  were  any  distance,  I  'd  cut  sights 
on  your  cross-stick ;  then  a  string  tied  to  the  end 


1 8     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

of  it,  and  held  in  a  plumb-line  forward,  would  lead 
you  pretty  near  what  you  wanted.  But  surely, 
Tom,  you  don't  intend  to  localise  the  ghost  in  that 
way  ?  " 

"  You  '11  see  to-night,  old  friend — you  '11  see  to- 
night. I  '11  carry  this  to  the  Sasassa  Valley.  You 
get  the  loan  of  Madison's  crowbar,  and  come  with 
me;  but  mind  you  tell  no  man  where  you  are 
going,  or  what  you  want  it  for." 

All  day  Tom  was  walking  up  and  down  the 
room,  or  working  hard  at  the  apparatus.  His 
eyes  were  glistening,  his  cheeks  hectic,  and  he  had 
all  the  symptoms  of  high  fever.  "  Heaven  grant 
that  Dick's  diagnosis  be  not  correct ! "  I  thought, 
as  I  returned  with  the  crowbar ;  and  yet,  as  even- 
ing drew  near,  I  found  myself  imperceptibly  shar- 
ing the  excitement. 

About  six  o'clock  Tom  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
seized  his  sticks.  "I  can  stand  it  no  longer, 
Jack,"  he  cried ;  "  up  with  your  crowbar,  and  hey 
for  Sasassa  Valley !  To-night's  work,  my  lad,  will 
either  make  us  or  mar  us !  Take  your  six-shooter, 
in  case  we  meet  the  Kaffirs.  I  dare  n't  take  mine, 
Jack,"  he  continued,  putting  his  hands  upon  my 
shoulders — "I  dare  n't  take  mine;  for  if  my  ill 
luck  sticks  to  me  to-night,  I  don't  know  what  I 
might  not  do  with  it." 

Well,  having  filled  our  pockets  with  provisions, 
we  set  out,  and,  as  we  took  our  wearisome  way  to- 
ward the  Sasassa  Valley,  I  frequently  attempted  to 
elicit  from  my  companion  some  clue  as  to  his  in- 


THE    MYSTERY    OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.  19 

tentions.  But  his  only  answer  was :  "  Let  us  hurry 
on,  Jack.  Who  knows  how  many  have  heard  of 
Wharton's  adventure  by  this  time !  Let  us  hurry 
on,  or  we  may  not  be  first  in  the  field! " 

Well,  sir,  we  struggled  on  through  the  hills  for 
a  matter  of  ten  miles ;  till  at  last,  after  descending 
a  crag,  we  saw  opening  out  in  front  of  us  a  ravine 
so  sombre  and  dark  that  it  might  have  been  the 
gate  of  Hades  itself;  cliffs  many  hundred  feet 
shut  in  on  every  side  the  gloomy  boulder-studded 
passage  which  led  through  the  haunted  defile  into 
Kaffirland.  The  moon,  rising  above  the  crags, 
threw  into  strong  relief  the  rough,  irregular  pin- 
nacles of  rock  by  which  they  were  topped,  while 
all  below  was  dark  as  Erebus. 

"The  Sasassa  Valley  ?  "  said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  Tom. 

I  looked  at  him.  He  was  calm  now ;  the  flush 
and  f  everishness  had  passed  away ;  his  actions  were 
deliberate  and  slow.  Yet  there  was  a  certain  rigid- 
ity in  his  face  and  glitter  in  his  eye  which  showed 
that  a  crisis  had  come. 

We  entered  the  pass,  stumbling  along  amid  the 
great  boulders.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  short,  quick 
exclamation  from  Tom.  "That  's  the  crag!"  he 
cried,  pointing  to  a  great  mass  looming  before  us 
in  the  darkness.  "  Now,  Jack,  for  any  favour  use 
your  eyes!  We  're  about  a  hundred  yards  from 
that  cliff,  I  take  it;  so  you  move  slowly  toward 
one  side  and  I  '11  do  the  same  toward  the  other. 
When  you  see  anything,  stop  and  call  out.  Don't 


30     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

take  more  than  twelve  inches  in  a  step,  and  keep 
your  eye  fixed  on  the  cliff  about  eight  feet  from  the 
ground.  Are  you  ready?  " 

"  Yes."  I  was  even  more  excited  than  Tom  by 
this  time.  What  his  intention  or  object  was  I 
could  not  conjecture,  beyond  that  he  wanted  to 
examine  by  daylight  the  part  of  the  cliff  from  which 
the  light  came.  Yet  the  influence  of  the  romantic 
situation  and  my  companion's  suppressed  excite- 
ment was  so  great  that  I  could  feel  the  blood 
coursing  through  my  veins  and  count  the  pulses 
throbbing  at  my  temples. 

"Start!"  cried  Tom;  and  we  moved  off,  he  to 
the  right,  I  to  the  left,  each  with  our  eyes  fixed  in- 
tently on  the  base  of  the  crag.  I  had  moved  per- 
haps twenty  feet,  when  in  a  moment  it  burst  upon 
me.  Through  the  growing  darkness  there  shone  a 
small,  ruddy,  glowing  point,  the  light  from  which 
waned  and  increased,  flickered  and  oscillated,  each 
change  producing  a  more  weird  effect  than  the 
last.  The  old  Kaffir  superstition  came  into  my 
mind,  and  I  felt  a  cold  shudder  pass  over  me.  In 
my  excitement  I  stepped  a  pace  backward,  when 
instantly  the  light  went  out,  leaving  utter  darkness 
in  its  place ;  but  when  I  advanced  again,  there  was 
the  ruddy  glare  glowing  from  the  base  of  the  cliff. 
"Tom, Tom!"  I  cried. 

"Ay,  ay!"  I  heard  him  exclaim,  as  he  hurried 
over  toward  me. 

"There  it  is— there,  up  against  the  cliff!" 

Tom  was  at  my  elbow.    "  I  see  nothing,"  said  he. 


THE    MYSTERY    OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.  21 

"Why,  there,  there,  man,  in  front  of  you!"  I 
stepped  to  the  right  as  I  spoke,  when  the  light 
instantly  vanished  from  my  eyes. 

But  from  Tom's  ejaculations  of  delight  it  was 
clear  that  from  my  former  position  it  was  visible 
to  him  also.  "  Jack,"  he  cried,  as  he  turned  and 
wrung  my  hand — "Jack,  you  and  I  can  never 
complain  of  our  luck  again.  Now  heap  up  a  few 
stones  where  we  are  standing.  That  's  right. 
Now  we  must  fix  my  sign-post  firmly  in  at  the  top. 
There !  It  would  take  a  strong  wind  to  blow  that 
down ;  and  we  only  need  it  to  hold  out  till  morn- 
ing. O  Jack,  my  boy,  to  think  that  only  yesterday 
we  were  talking  of  becoming  clerks,  and  you  say- 
ing that  no  man  knew  what  was  awaiting  him,  too ! 
By  Jove,  Jack,  it  would  make  a  good  story! " 

By  this  time  we  had  firmly  fixed  the  perpendic- 
ular stick  in  between  two  large  stones ;  and  Tom 
bent  down  and  peered  along  the  horizontal  one. 
For  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  was  alternately 
raising  and  depressing  it,  until  at  last,  with  a  sigh 
of  satisfaction,  he  fixed  the  prop  into  the  angle,  and 
stood  up.  "  Look  along,  Jack,"  he  said.  "  You 
have  as  straight  an  eye  to  take  a  sight  as  any  man 
I  know  of." 

I  looked  along.  There  beyond  the  farther  sight 
was  the  ruddy,  scintillating  speck,  apparently  at 
the  end  of  the  stick  itself,  so  accurately  had  it 
been  adjusted. 

"And  now,  my  boy,"  said  Tom,  "let  's  have 
some  supper  and  a  sleep.  There  's  nothing  more 


22     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

to  be  done  to-night ;  but  we  '11  need  all  our  wits 
and  strength  to-morrow.  Get  some  sticks  and 
kindle  a  fire  here,  and  then  we  '11  be  able  to  keep 
an  eye  on  our  signal-post,  and  see  that  nothing 
happens  to  it  during  the  night." 

Well,  sir,  we  kindled  a  fire,  and  had  supper  with 
the  Sasassa  demon's  eye  rolling  and  glowing  in 
front  of  us  the  whole  night  through.  Not  always 
in  the  same  place,  though ;  for  after  supper,  when 
I  glanced  along  the  sights  to  have  another  look  at 
it,  it  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  information  did 
not,  however,  seem  to  disturb  Tom  in  any  way. 
He  merely  remarked,  "  It  's  the  moon,  not  the 
thing,  that  has  shifted;"  and  coiling  himself  up, 
went  to  sleep. 

By  early  dawn  we  were  both  up,  and  gazing 
along  our  pointer  at  the  cliff ;  but  we  could  make 
out  nothing  save  the  one  dead,  monotonous,  slaty 
surface,  rougher  perhaps  at  the  part  we  were  ex- 
amining than  elsewhere,  but  otherwise  presenting 
nothing  remarkable. 

"Now  for  your  idea,  Jack!"  said  Tom  Dona- 
hue, unwinding  a  long  thin  cord  from  round  his 
waist.  "  You  fasten  it,  and  guide  me  while  I  take 
the  other  end."  So  saying,  he  walked  off  to  the 
base  of  the  cliff,  holding  one  end  of  the  cord, 
while  I  drew  the  other  taut,  and  wound  it  round 
the  middle  of  the  horizontal  stick,  passing  it 
through  the  sight  at  the  end.  By  this  means  I 
could  direct  Tom  to  the  right  or  left,  until  we  had 
/ur  string  stretching  from  the  point  of  attachment, 


THE    MYSTERY    OF    SASASSA    VALLEY.  23 

through  the  sight,  and  on  to  the  rock,  which  it 
struck  about  eight  feet  from  the  ground.  Tom 
drew  a  chalk  circle  of  about  three  feet  diameter 
round  the  spot,  and  then  called  to  me  to  come  and 
join  him.  "We  've  managed  this  business  to- 
gether, Jack,"  he  said,  "  and  we  '11  find  what  we 
are  to  find,  together."  The  circle  he  had  drawn 
embraced  a  part  of  the  rock  smoother  than  the 
rest,  save  that  about  the  centre  there  were  a  few 
rough  protuberances  or  knobs.  One  of  these  Tom 
pointed  to  with  a  cry  of  delight.  It  was  a  rough- 
ish,  brownish  mass  about  the  size  of  a  man's  closed 
fist,  and  looking  like  a  bit  of  dirty  glass  let  into 
the  wall  of  the  cliff.  "That  's  it!"  he  cried— 
"that's  it!" 

"That's  what?" 

"  Why,  man,  a  diamond,  and  such  a  one  as  there 
is  n't  a  monarch  in  Europe  but  would  envy  Tom 
Donahue  the  possession  of.  Up  with  your  crow- 
bar, and  we  '11  soon  exorcise  the  demon  of  Sasassa 
Valley!" 

I  was  so  astounded  that  for  a  moment  I  stood 
speechless  with  surprise,  gazing  at  the  treasure 
which  had  so  unexpectedly  fallen  into  our  hands. 

"  Here,  hand  me  the  crowbar,"  said  Tom. 
"  Now,  by  using  this  little  round  knob  which 
projects  from  the  cliff  here  as  a  fulcrum,  we  may 
be  able  to  lever  it  off.  Yes;  there  it  goes.  I 
never  thought  it  could  have  come  so  easily.  Now, 
Jack,  the  sooner  we  get  back  to  our  hut  and  then 
down  to  Cape  Town,  the  better." 


24     THE  MYSTERY  OF  SASASSA  VALLEY. 

We  wrapped  up  our  treasure,  and  made  our 
way  across  the  hills  toward  home.  On  the  way, 
Tom  told  me  how,  while  a  law  student  in  the  Mid- 
dle Temple,  he  had  come  upon  a  dusty  pamphlet 
in  the  library,  by  one  Jans  van  Hounym,  which 
told  of  an  experience  very  similar  to  ours,  which 
had  befallen  that  worthy  Dutchman  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  which  resulted 
in  the  discovery  of  a  luminous  diamond.  This 
tale  it  was  which  had  come  into  Tom's  head  as  he 
listened  to  honest  Dick  Wharton's  ghost-story, 
while  the  means  which  he  had  adopted  to  verify 
his  supposition  sprang  from  his  own  fertile  Irish 
brain. 

"  We  '11  take  it  down  to  Cape  Town,"  continued 
Tom, "  and  if  we  can't  dispose  of  it  with  advan- 
tage there,  it  will  be  worth  our  while  to  ship  for 
London  with  it.  Let  us  go  along  to  Madison's 
first,  though ;  he  knows  something  of  these  things, 
and  can  perhaps  give  us  some  idea  of  what  we 
may  consider  a  fair  price  for  our  treasure." 

We  turned  off  from  the  track  accordingly,  before 
reaching  our  hut,  and  kept  along  the  narrow  path 
leading  to  Madison's  farm.  He  was  at  lunch  when 
we  entered;  and  in  a  minute  we  were  seated  at 
each  side  of  him,  enjoying  South  African  hos- 
pitality. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  after  the  servants  were  gone, 
"what 's  in  the  wind  now?  I  see  you  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  me.  What  is  it?  " 

Tom  produced  his  packet,  and  solemnly  untied 


TttE    MYSTERY   OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.  2g 

the  handkerchiefs  which  enveloped  it.  "There!" 
he  said,  putting  his  crystal  on  the  table ;  "  what 
would  you  say  was  a  fair  price  for  that?  " 

Madison  took  it  up  and  examined  it  critically. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  laying  it  down  again,  "  in  its  crude 
state  about  twelve  shillings  per  ton." 

"Twelve  shillings!"  cried  Tom,  starting  to  his 
feet.  "  Don't  you  see  what  it  is?  " 

"Rock-salt!" 

"  Rock-salt  be  d— d!  a  diamond." 

"Taste  it!"  said  Madison. 

Tom  put  it  to  his  lips,  dashed  it  down  with 
a  dreadful  exclamation,  and  rushed  out  of  the 
room. 

I  felt  sad  and  disappointed  enough  myself ;  but 
presently,  remembering  what  Tom  had  said  about 
the  pistol,  I,  too,  left  the  house,  and  made  for  the 
hut,  leaving  Madison  open-mouthed  with  astonish- 
ment. When  I  got  in,  I  found  Tom  lying  in  his 
bunk  with  his  face  to  the  wall,  too  dispirited  appa- 
rently to  answer  my  consolations.  Anathematising 
Dick  and  Madison,  the  Sasassa  demon,  and  every- 
thing else,  I  strolled  out  of  the  hut,  and  refreshed 
myself  with  a  pipe  after  our  wearisome  adventure. 
I  was  about  fifty  yards  from  the  hut,  when  I  heard 
issuing  from  it  the  sound  which  of  all  others  I  least 
expected  to  hear.  Had  it  been  a  groan  or  an  oath, 
I  should  have  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course ;  but 
the  sound  which  caused  me  to  stop  and  take  the 
pipe  out  of  my  mouth  was  a  hearty  roar  of  laugh- 
ter! Next  moment  Tom  himself  emerged  from  the 


26  THE   MYStERY   Ofr   SASASSA   VALLEY. 

door,  his  whole  face  radiant  with  delight.  "  Game 
for  another  ten-mile  walk,  old  fellow?  " 

"  What!  for  another  lump  of  rock-salt,  at  twelve 
shillings  a  ton?  " 

" '  No  more  of  that,  Hal,  an  you  love  me,' " 
grinned  Tom.  "  Now  look  here,  Jack.  What 
blessed  fools  we  are  to  be  so  floored  by  a  trifle! 
Just  sit  on  this  stump  for  five  minutes,  and  I  '11 
make  it  as  clear  as  daylight.  You  Ve  seen  many 
a  lump  of  rock-salt  stuck  in  a  crag,  and  so  have 
I,  though  we  did  make  such  a  mull  of  this  one. 
Now,  Jack,  did  any  of  the  pieces  you  have  ever 
seen  shine  in  the  darkness  brighter  than  any  fire- 
fly?" 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  they  ever  did." 

"  I  'd  venture  to  prophesy  that  if  we  waited 
until  night,  which  we  won't  do,  we  would  see  that 
light  still  glimmering  among  the  rocks.  Therefore, 
Jack,  when  we  took  away  this  worthless  salt,  we 
took  the  wrong  crystal.  It  is  no  very  strange  thing 
in  these  hills  that  a  piece  of  rock-salt  should  be 
lying  within  a  foot  of  a  diamond.  It  caught  our 
eyes,  and  we  were  excited,  and  so  we  made  fools 
of  ourselves,  and  left  the  real  stone  behind.  De- 
pend upon  it,  Jack,  the  Sasassa  gem  is  lying  within 
that  magic  circle  of  chalk  upon  the  face  of  yonder 
cliff.  Come,  old  fellow,  light  your  pipe  and  stow 
your  revolver,  and  we  '11  be  off  before  that  fellow 
Madison  has  time  to  put  two  and  two  together." 

I  don't  know  that  I  was  very  sanguine  this  time. 
I  had  begun,  in  fact,  to  look  upon  the  diamond  as 


THE   MYSTERY   OF    SASASSA   VALLEY.          27 

a  most  unmitigated  nuisance.  However,  rather 
than  throw  a  damper  on  Tom's  expectations,  I  an- 
nounced myself  eager  to  start.  What  a  walk  it 
was!  Tom  was  always  a  good  mountaineer,  but 
his  excitement  seemed  to  lend  him  wings  that 
day,  while  I  scrambled  along  after  him  as  best  I 
could. 

When  we  got  within  half  a  mile  he  broke  into 
the  "  double,"  and  never  pulled  up  until  he  reached 
the  round  white  circle  upon  the  cliff.  Poor  old 
Tom!  when  I  came  up,  his  mood  had  changed, 
and  he  was  standing  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
gazing  vacantly  before  him  with  a  rueful  counte- 
nance. 

"Look!"  he  said,  "look!"  and  he  pointed  at 
the  cliff.  Not  a  sign  of  anything  in  the  least  re- 
sembling a  diamond  there.  The  circle  included 
nothing  but  flat  slate-coloured  stone,  with  one 
large  hole,  where  we  had  extracted  the  rock-salt, 
and  one  or  two  smaller  depressions.  No  sign  of 
the  gem. 

"  I  Ve  been  over  every  inch  of  it,"  said  poor 
Tom.  "  It 's  not  there.  Some  one  has  been  here 
and  noticed  the  chalk,  and  taken  it.  Come  home, 
Jack;  I  feel  sick  and  tired.  Oh,  had  any  man 
ever  luck  like  mine ! " 

I  turned  to  go,  but  took  one  last  look  at  the 
cliff  first.  Tom  was  already  ten  paces  off. 

"Hollo!"  I  cried,  "don't  you  see  any  change 
in  that  circle  since  yesterday?  " 

"  What  d'  ye  mean?  "  said  Tom. 


1 8  TttE    MYStERV   Ofr   SASASSA   VALLEY. 

"Don't  you  miss  a  thing  that  was  there  be- 
fore ?  " 

"The  rock-salt?  "  said  Tom. 

"  No ;  but  the  little  round  knob  that  we  used 
for  a  fulcrum.  I  suppose  we  must  have  wrenched 
it  off  in  using  the  lever.  Let  's  have  a  look  at 
what  it 's  made  of." 

Accordingly,  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  we  searched 
about  among  the  loose  stones. 

"  Here  you  are,  Jack!  We  've  done  it  at  last! 
We  're  made  men ! " 

I  turned  round,  and  there  was  Tom  radiant 
with  delight,  and  with  a  little  corner  of  black  rock 
in  his  hand.  At  first  sight  it  seemed  to  be  merely 
a  chip  from  the  cliff ;  but  near  the  base  there  was 
projecting  from  it  an  object  which  Tom  was  now 
exultingly  pointing  out.  It  looked  at  first  some- 
thing like  a  glass  eye ;  but  there  was  a  depth  and 
brilliancy  about  it  such  as  glass  never  exhibited. 
There  was  no  mistake  this  time ;  we  had  certainly 
got  possession  of  a  jewel  of  great  value ;  and  with 
light  hearts  we  turned  from  the  valley,  bearing 
away  with  us  the  "fiend"  which  had  so  long 
reigned  there. 

There,  sir ;  I  've  spun  my  story  out  too  long, 
and  tired  you  perhaps.  You  see,  when  I  get  talk- 
ing of  those  rough  old  days,  I  kind  of  see  the  little 
cabin  again,  and  the  brook  beside  it,  and  the  bush 
around,  and  seem  to  hear  Tom's  honest  voice  once 
more.  There  's  little  for  me  to  say  now.  We 
prospered  on  the  gem.  Tom  Donahue,  as  you 


THE    MYSTERY    OF    SASASSA    VALLEY.  29 

know,  has  set  up  here,  and  is  well  known  about 
town.  I  have  done  well,  farming  and  ostrich-rais- 
ing in  Africa.  We  set  old  Dick  Wharton  up  in 
business,  and  he  is  one  of  our  nearest  neighbours. 
If  you  should  ever  be  coming  up  our  way,  sir, 
you  '11  not  forget  to  ask  for  Jack  Turnbull — Jack 
Turnbull  of  Sasassa  Farm. 


LONG  ODDS 

BY 

H.  RIDER  HAGGARD 


LONG  ODDS 

BY    H.    RIDER    HAGGARD 

THE  story  which  is  narrated  in  the  following 
pages  came  to  me  from  the  lips  of  my  old 
friend  Allan  Quatermain,  or  Hunter  Quatermain, 
as  we  used  to  call  him  in  South  Africa.  He  told 
it  to  me  one  evening  when  I  was  stopping  with 
him  at  the  place  he  bought  in  Yorkshire.  Shortly 
after  that,  the  death  of  his  only  son  so  unsettled 
him  that  he  immediately  left  England,  accom- 
panied by  two  companions  who  were  old  fellow- 
voyagers  of  his,  Sir  Henry  Curtis  and  Captain 
Good,  and  has  now  utterly  vanished  into  the  dark 
heart  of  Africa.  He  is  persuaded  that  a  white 
people,  of  which  he  has  heard  rumours  all  his  life, 
exists  somewhere  on  the  highlands  in  the  vast,  still 
unexplored  interior,  and  his  great  ambition  is  to 
find  them  before  he  dies.  This  is  the  wild  quest 
upon  which  he  and  his  companions  have  departed, 
and  from  which  I  shrewdly  suspect  they  never  will 
return.  One  letter  only  have  I  received  from  the 
old  gentleman,  dated  from  a  mission  station  high 
up  the  Tana,  a  river  on  the  east  coast,  about  three 
hundred  miles  north  of  Zanzibar ;  in  it  he  says  they 
have  gone  through  many  hardships  and  adven- 


34  LONG   ODDS. 

tures,  but  are  alive  and  well,  and  have  found 
traces  which  go  far  toward  making  him  hope  that 
the  results  of  their  wild  quest  may  be  a  "  magnifi- 
cent and  unexampled  discovery."  I  greatly  fear, 
however,  that  all  he  has  discovered  is  death ;  for 
this  letter  came  a  long  while  ago,  and  nobody  has 
heard  a  single  word  of  the  party  since.  They  have 
totally  vanished. 

It  was  on  the  last  evening  of  my  stay  at  his 
house  that  he  told  the  ensuing  story  to  me  and 
Captain  Good,  who  was  dining  with  him.  He 
had  eaten  his  dinner  and  drunk  two  or  three 
glasses  of  old  port,  just  to  help  Good  and  myself 
to  the  end  of  the  second  bottle.  It  was  an  un- 
usual thing  for  him  to  do,  for  he  was  a  most  ab- 
stemious man,  having  conceived,  as  he  used  to  say, 
a  great  horror  of  drink  from  observing  its  effects 
upon  the  class  of  men — hunters,  transport-riders, 
and  others — among  whom  he  had  passed  so 
many  years  of  his  life.  Consequently  the  good 
wine  took  more  effect  on  him  than  it  would  have 
done  on  most  men,  sending  a  little  flush  into  his 
wrinkled  cheeks,  and  making  him  talk  more  freely 
than  usual. 

Dear  old  man!  I  can  see  him  now,  as  he  went 
limping  up  and  down  the  vestibule,  with  his  gray 
hair  sticking  up  in  scrubbing-brush  fashion,  his 
shrivelled  yellow  face,  and  his  large  dark  eyes,  that 
were  as  keen  as  any  hawk's  and  yet  soft  as  a 
buck's.  The  whole  room  was  hung  with  trophies 
of  his  numerous  hunting  expeditions,  and  he  had 


LONG    ODDS.  35 

some  story  about  every  one  of  them,  if  only  you 
could  get  him  to  tell  them.  Generally  he  would 
not,  for  he  was  not  very  fond  of  narrating  his  own 
adventures,  but  to-night  the  port  wine  made  him 
more  communicative. 

"  Ah,  you  brute ! "  he  said,  stopping  beneath  an 
unusually  large  skull  of  a  lion,  which  was  fixed 
just  over  the  mantelpiece,  beneath  a  long  row  of 
guns,  its  jaws  distended  to  their  utmost  width. 
"  Ah,  you  brute !  you  have  given  me  a  lot  of 
trouble  for  the  last  dozen  years,  and  will,  I  sup- 
pose, to  my  dying  day." 

"Tell  us  the  yarn,  Quatermain,"  said  Good. 
"You  have  often  promised  to  tell  me,  and  you 
never  have." 

"  You  had  better  not  ask  me  to,"  he  answered, 
"  for  it  is  a  longish  one." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  "  the  evening  is  young  and 
there  is  some  more  port." 

Thus  adjured,  he  filled  his  pipe  from  a  jar  of 
coarse-cut  Boer  tobacco  that  was  always  standing 
on  the  mantelpiece,  and,  still  walking  up  and  down 
the  room,  began : 

"  It  was,  I  think,  in  the  March  of  '69  that  I  was 
up  in  Sikukuni's  country.  It  was  just  after  old 
Sequati's  time,  and  Sikukuni  had  got  into  power — 
I  forget  how.  Anyway,  I  was  there.  I  had  heard 
that  the  Bapedi  people  had  got  down  an  enormous 
quantity  of  ivory  from  the  interior,  and  so  I  started 
with  a  waggon-load  of  goods,  and  came  straight 
away  from  Middelburg  to  try  and  trade  some  of 


36  LONG   ODDS. 

it.  It  was  a  risky  thing  to  go  into  the  country  so 
early,  on  account  of  the  fever;  but  I  knew  that 
there  were  one  or  two  others  after  that  lot  of  ivory, 
so  I  determined  to  have  a  try  for  it,  and  take  my 
chance  of  fever.  I  had  got  so  tough  from  con- 
tinual knocking  about  that  I  did  not  set  it  down 
at  much.  Well,  I  got  on  all  right  for  a  while.  It 
is  a  wonderfully  beautiful  piece  of  bush  veldt,  with 
great  ranges  of  mountains  running  through  it,  and 
round  granite  koppies  starting  up  here  and  there, 
looking  out  like  sentinels  over  the  rolling  waste  of 
bush.  But  it  is  very  hot, — hot  as  a  stew-pan, — and 
when  I  was  there  that  March,  which,  of  course,  is 
autumn  in  that  part  of  Africa,  the  whole  place 
reeked  of  fever.  Every  morning,  as  I  trekked 
along  down  by  the  Oliphant  River,  I  used  to  creep 
out  of  the  waggon  at  dawn  and  look  out.  But 
there  was  no  river  to  be  seen — only  a  long  line  of 
billows  of  what  looked  like  the  finest  cotton-wool 
tossed  up  lightly  with  a  pitchfork.  It  was  the 
fever-mist.  Out  from  among  the  scrub,  too,  came 
little  spirals  of  vapour,  as  though  there  were  hun- 
dreds of  tiny  fires  alight  in  it — reek  rising  from  thou- 
sands of  tons  of  rotting  vegetation.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful place,  but  the  beauty  was  the  beauty  of  death ; 
and  all  those  lines  and  blots  of  vapour  wrote  one 
great  word  across  the  surface  of  the  country,  and 
that  word  was  '  fever.' 

"  It  was  a  dreadful  year  of  illness  that.  I  came, 
I  remember,  to  one  little  kraal  of  knobnoses,  and 
went  up  to  it  to  see  if  1  could  get  some  maas 


LONG  ODDS.  37 

(curdled  buttermilk)  and  a  few  mealies.  As  I  got 
near  I  was  struck  with  the  silence  of  the  place. 
No  children  began  to  chatter,  and  no  dogs  barked. 
Nor  could  I  see  any  native  sheep  or  cattle.  The 
place,  though  it  had  evidently  been  recently  in- 
habited, was  as  still  as  the  bush  round  it,  and  some 
guinea-fowl  got  up  out  of  the  prickly-pear  bushes 
right  at  the  kraal  gate.  I  remember  that  I  hesi- 
tated a  little  before  going  in,  there  was  such  an  air 
of  desolation  about  the  spot.  Nature  never  looks 
desolate  when  man  has  not  yet  laid  his  hand  upon 
her  breast ;  she  is  only  lovely.  But  when  man  has 
been,  and  has  passed  away,  then  she  looks  des- 
olate. 

"  Well,  I  passed  into  the  kraal,  and  went  up  to 
the  principal  hut.  In  front  of  the  hut  was  some- 
thing with  an  old  sheepskin  kaross  [rug]  thrown 
over  it.  I  stooped  down  and  drew  off  the  rug, 
and  then  shrank  back  amazed,  for  under  it  was 
the  body  of  a  young  woman  recently  dead.  For 
a  moment  I  thought  of  turning  back,  but  my 
curiosity  overcame  me ;  so,  going  past  the  woman, 
I  went  down  on  my  hands  and  knees  and  crept 
into  the  hut.  It  was  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see 
anything,  though  I  could  smell  a  great  deal;  so 
I  lit  a  match.  It  was  a  '  tandstickor '  match  and 
burned  slowly  and  dimly,  and  as  the  light  gradually 
increased  I  made  out  what  I  thought  was  a  lot  of 
people,  men,  women,  and  children,  fast  asleep. 
Presently  it  burned  up  brightly,  and  I  saw  that 
they  too,  five  of  them  altogether,  were  quite  dead. 


38  LONG   ODDS. 

One  was  a  baby.  I  dropped  the  match  in  a  hurry, 
and  was  making  my  way  out  of  the  hut  as  hard  as 
I  could  go,  when  I  caught  sight  of  two  bright  eyes 
staring  out  of  a  corner.  Thinking  it  was  a  wild- 
cat, or  some  such  animal,  I  redoubled  my  haste, 
when  suddenly  a  voice  near  the  eyes  began  first  to 
mutter,  and  then  to  send  up  a  succession  of  awful 
yells.  Hastily  I  lit  another  match,  and  perceived 
that  the  eyes  belonged  to  an  old  woman,  wrapped 
up  in  a  greasy  leather  garment.  Taking  her  by 
the  arm,  I  dragged  her  out,  for  she  could  not,  or 
would  not,  come  by  herself,  and  the  stench  was 
overpowering  me.  Such  a  sight  as  she  was — a 
bag  of  bones,  covered  over  with  black,  shrivelled 
parchment.  The  only  white  thing  about  her  was 
her  wool,  and  she  seemed  to  be  pretty  well  dead 
except  for  her  eyes  and  her  voice.  She  thought 
that  I  was  a  devil  come  to  take  her,  and  that  was 
why  she  yelled  so.  Well,  I  got  her  down  to  the 
waggon,  and  gave  her  a  '  tot '  of  Cape  smoke,  and 
then,  as  soon  as  it  was  ready,  poured  about  a  pint 
of  beef-tea  down  her  throat,  made  from  the  flesh 
of  a  blue  vilder-beeste  I  had  killed  the  day  before, 
and  after  that  she  brightened  up  wonderfully.  She 
could  talk  Zulu, — indeed,  it  turned  out  that  she 
had  run  away  from  Zululand  in  T'Chaka's  time, — 
and  she  told  me  that  all  the  people  that  I  had  seen 
had  died  of  fever.  When  they  had  died,  the  other 
inhabitants  of  the  kraal  had  taken  the  cattle  and 
gone  away,  leaving  the  poor  old  woman,  who  was 
helpless  from  age  and  infirmity,  to  perish  of  star- 


LONG   ODDS.  39 

vation  or  disease,  as  the  case  might  be.  She  had 
been  sitting  there  for  three  days  among  the  bodies 
when  I  found  her.  I  took  her  on  to  the  next 
kraal,  and  gave  the  head  man  a  blanket  to  look 
after  her,  promising  him  another  if  I  found  her 
well  when  I  came  back.  I  remember  that  he  was 
much  astonished  at  my  parting  with  two  blankets 
for  the  sake  of  such  a  worthless  old  creature. 
'  Why  did  I  not  leave  her  in  the  bush?  '  he  asked. 
Those  people  carry  the  doctrine  of  the  survival  of 
the  fittest  to  its  extreme,  you  see. 

"  It  was  the  night  after  I  had  got  rid  of  the  old 
woman  that  I  made  my  first  acquaintance  with  my 
friend  yonder,"  and  he  nodded  toward  the  skull 
that  seemed  to  be  grinning  down  at  us  in  the 
shadow  of  the  wide  mantel-shelf.  "  I  had  trekked 
from  dawn  till  eleven  o'clock,— a  long  trek,— but  I 
wanted  to  get  on ;  and  then  had  the  oxen  turned 
out  to  graze,  sending  the  voorlooper  to  look  after 
them,  meaning  to  inspan  again  about  six  o'clock, 
and  trek  with  the  moon  till  ten.  Then  I  got  into 
the  waggon  and  had  a  good  sleep  till  half-past 
two  or  so  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  got  up  and 
cooked  some  meat,  and  had  my  dinner,  washing 
it  down  with  a  pannikin  of  black  coffee ;  for  it  was 
difficult  to  get  preserved  milk  in  those  days.  Just 
as  I  had  finished,  and  the  driver,  a  man  called 
Tom,  was  washing  up  the  things,  in  comes  the 
young  scoundrel  of  a  voorlooper,  driving  one  ox 
before  him. 

"  '  Where  are  the  other  oxen? '  I  asked. 


4®  LdJfG  6Di)S. 

" '  Koos! '  he  said, '  koos!  [chief]  the  other  oxen 
have  gone  away.  I  turned  my  back  for  a  minute, 
and  when  I  looked  round  again  they  were  all  gone 
except  Kaptein,  here,  who  was  rubbing  his  back 
against  a  tree.' 

" '  You  mean  that  you  have  been  asleep,  and 
let  them  stray,  you  villain.  I  will  rub  your  back 
against  a  stick,'  I  answered,  feeling  very  angry, 
for  it  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect  to  be  stuck  up 
in  that  fever-trap  for  a  week  or  so  while  we  were 
hunting  for  the  oxen.  '  Off  you  go,  and  you  too, 
Tom,  and  mind  you  don't  come  back  till  you  have 
found  them.  They  have  trekked  back  along  the 
Middelburg  road,  and  are  a  dozen  miles  off  by 
now,  I  '11  be  bound.  Now,  no  words ;  go,  both  of 
you.' 

"Tom,  the  driver,  swore  and  caught  the  lad  a 
hearty  kick,  which  he  richly  deserved,  and  then, 
having  tied  old  Kaptein  up  to  the  disselboom  with 
a  riem,  they  got  their  assegais  and  sticks,  and 
started.  I  would  have  gone  too,  only  I  knew  that 
somebody  must  look  after  the  waggon,  and  I  did  not 
like  to  leave  either  of  the  boys  with  it  at  night.  I 
was  in  a  very  bad  temper,  indeed,  although  I  was 
pretty  well  used  to  these  sort  of  occurrences,  and 
soothed  myself  by  taking  a  rifle  and  going  to  kill 
something.  For  a  couple  of  hours  I  poked  about 
without  seeing  anything  that  I  could  get  a  shot  at, 
but  at  last,  just  as  I  was  again  within  seventy  yards 
of  the  waggon,  I  put  up  an  old  Impala  ram  from 
behind  a  mimosa-thorn.  He  ran  straight  for  the 


LONG   ODDS.  41 

waggon,  and  it  was  not  till  he  was  passing  within 
a  few  feet  of  it  that  I  could  get  a  decent  shot  at 
him.  Then  I  pulled,  and  caught  him  half-way 
down  the  spine ;  over  he  went,  dead  as  a  door- 
nail, and  a  pretty  shot  it  was,  though  I  ought  not 
to  say  it.  This  little  incident  put  me  into  rather 
a  better  temper,  especially  as  the  buck  had  rolled 
over  right  against  the  after  part  of  the  waggon,  so 
I  had  only  to  gut  him,  fix  a  riem  round  his  legs, 
and  haul  him  up.  By  the  time  I  had  done  this 
the  sun  was  down,  and  the  full  moon  was  up,  and 
a  beautiful  moon  it  was.  And  then  there  came 
down  that  wonderful  hush  that  sometimes  falls 
over  the  African  bush  in  the  early  hours  of  the 
night.  No  beast  was  moving,  and  no  bird  called. 
Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  the  quiet  trees,  and  the 
shadows  did  not  even  quiver ;  they  only  grew.  It 
was  very  oppressive  and  very  lonely,  for  there  was 
not  a  sign  of  the  cattle  or  the  boys.  I  was  quite 
thankful  for  the  society  of  old  Kaptein,  who  was 
lying  down  contentedly  against  the  disselboom, 
chewing  the  cud  with  a  good  conscience. 

"  Presently,  however,  Kaptein  began  to  get  rest- 
less. First  he  snorted,  then  he  got  up  and  snorted 
again.  I  could  not  make  it  out,  so,  like  a  fool,  I 
got  down  off  the  waggon-box  to  have  a  look  round, 
thinking  it  might  be  the  lost  oxen  coming. 

"  Next  instant  I  regretted  it,  for  all  of  a  sudden 
I  heard  an  awful  roar  and  saw  something  yellow 
flash  past  me  and  light  on  poor  Kaptein.  Then 
came  a  bellow  of  agony  from  the  ox,  and  a  crunch 


42  LONG   ODDS. 

as  the  lion  put  his  teeth  through  the  poor  brute's 
neck,  and  I  began  to  realise  what  had  happened. 
My  rifle  was  in  the  waggon,  and  my  first  thought 
was  to  get  hold  of  it,  and  I  turned  and  made  a 
bolt  for  it.  I  got  my  foot  on  the  wheel  and  flung 
my  body  forward  on  to  the  waggon,  and  there  I 
stopped  as  if  I  were  frozen,  and  no  wonder,  for  as 
I  was  about  to  spring  up  I  heard  the  lion  behind 
me,  and  next  second  I  felt  the  brute,  ay,  as  plainly 
as  I  can  feel  this  table.  I  felt  him,  I  say,  sniffing 
at  my  left  leg  that  was  hanging  down. 

"My  word!  I  did  feel  queer;  I  don't  think 
that  I  ever  felt  so  queer  before.  I  dared  not 
move  for  the  life  of  me,  and  the  odd  thing  was 
that  I  seemed  to  lose  power  over  my  leg,  which 
had  an  insane  sort  of  inclination  to  kick  out  of 
its  own  mere  motion — just  as  hysterical  people 
want  to  laugh  when  they  ought  to  be  particularly 
solemn.  Well,  the  lion  sniffed  and  sniffed,  begin- 
ning at  my  ankle  and  slowly  nosing  away  up  to 
my  thigh.  I  thought  that  he  was  going  to  get 
hold  then,  but  he  did  not.  He  only  growled 
softly,  and  went  back  to  the  ox.  Shifting  my 
head  a  little  I  got  a  full  view  of  him.  He  was 
the  biggest  lion  I  ever  saw, — and  I  have  seen  a 
great  many,— and  he  had  a  most  tremendous  black 
mane.  What  his  teeth  were  like  you  can  see— look 
there,  pretty  big  ones,  ain't  they?  Altogether  he 
was  a  magnificent  animal,  and,  as  I  lay  there 
sprawling  on  the  fore  tongue  of  the  waggon,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  he  would  look  uncommonly 


LONG   ODDS.  43 

well  in  a  cage.  He  stood  there  by  the  carcass  of 
poor  Kaptein,  and  deliberately  disembowelled  him 
as  neatly  as  a  butcher  could  have  done.  All  this 
while  I  dared  not  move,  for  he  kept  lifting  his 
head  and  keeping  an  eye  on  me  as  he  licked  his 
bloody  chops.  When  he  had  cleaned  Kaptein  out, 
he  opened  his  mouth  and  roared,  and  I  am  not 
exaggerating  when  I  say  that  the  sound  shook  the 
waggon.  Instantly  there  came  back  an  answering 
roar. 

"  '  Heavens! '  I  thought,  '  there  is  his  mate.' 
"  Hardly  was  the  thought  out  of  my  head  when  I 
caught  sight  in  the  moonlight  of  the  lioness  bound- 
ing along  through  the  long  grass,  and  after  her  a 
couple  of  cubs  about  the  size  of  mastiffs.  She 
stopped  within  a  few  feet  of  my  head,  and  stood, 
and  waved  her  tail,  and  fixed  me  with  her  glowing 
yellow  eyes ;  but  just  as  I  thought  that  it  was  all 
over  she  turned,  and  began  to  feed  on  Kaptein, 
and  so  did  the  cubs.  There  were  the  four  of  them 
within  eight  feet  of  me,  growling  and  quarrelling, 
rending  and  tearing  and  crunching  poor  Kaptein's 
bones ;  and  there  I  lay  shaking  with  terror,  and  the 
cold  perspiration  pouring  out  of  me,  feeling  like  an- 
other Daniel  come  to  judgment  in  a  new  sense  of 
the  phrase.  Presently  the  cubs  had  eaten  their 
fill,  and  began  to  get  restless.  One  went  round  to 
the  back  of  the  waggon  and  pulled  at  the  Impala 
buck  that  hung  there,  and  the  other  came  round 
my  way  and  began  the  sniffing  game  at  my  leg.  In- 
deed, he  did  more  than  that,  for,  my  trouser  being 


44  LONG   ODDS. 

hitched  up  a  little,  he  began  to  lick  the  bare  skin 
with  his  rough  tongue.  The  more  he  licked  the 
more  he  liked  it,  to  judge  from  his  increased  vigour 
and  the  loud  purring  noise  he  made.  Then  I  knew 
that  the  end  had  come,  for  in  another  second  his 
file-like  tongue  would  have  rasped  through  the  skin 
of  my  leg — which  was  luckily  pretty  tough — and 
have  got  to  the  blood,  and  then  there  would  be  no 
chance  for  me.  So  I  just  lay  there  and  thought  of 
my  sins,  and  prayed  to  the  Almighty,  and  thought 
that,  after  all,  life  was  a  very  enjoyable  thing. 

"  And  then  all  of  a  sudden  I  heard  a  crashing 
of  bushes  and  the  shouting  and  whistling  of  men, 
and  there  were  the  two  boys  coming  back  with  the 
cattle,  which  they  had  found  trekking  along  all  to- 
gether. The  lions  lifted  their  heads  and  listened, 
and  then  without  a  sound  bounded  off — and  I 
fainted. 

"  The  lions  came  back  no  more  that  night,  and 
by  the  next  morning  my  nerves  had  got  pretty 
straight  again;  but  I  was  full  of  wrath  when  I 
thought  of  all  that  I  had  gone  through  at  the 
hands,  or  rather  noses,  of  those  four  lions,  and  of 
the  fate  of  my  after-ox  Kaptein.  He  was  a 
splendid  ox,  and  I  was  very  fond  of  him.  So 
wroth  was  I  that,  like  a  fool,  I  determined  to  go 
for  the  whole  family  of  them.  It  was  worthy  of  a 
greenhorn  out  on  his  first  hunting-trip ;  but  I  did 
it  nevertheless.  Accordingly  after  breakfast,  hav- 
ing rubbed  some  oil  upon  my  leg,  which  was  very 
sore  from  the  cub's  tongue,  I  took  the  driver,  Tom, 


LONG  ODDS.  45 

who  did  not  half  like  the  job,  and  having  armed 
myself  with  an  ordinary  double  No.  12  smooth- 
bore, the  first  breech-loader  I  ever  had,  I  started. 
I  took  the  smooth-bore  because  it  shot  a  bullet 
very  well;  and  my  experience  has  been  that  a 
round  ball  from  a  smooth-bore  is  quite  as  effective 
against  a  lion  as  an  express  bullet.  The  lion  is 
soft  and  not  a  difficult  animal  to  finish  if  you  hit 
him  anywhere  in  the  body.  A  buck  takes  far 
more  killing. 

"Well,  I  started,  and  the  first  thing  I  set  to 
work  to  do  was  to  try  to  make  out  whereabouts 
the  brutes  lay  up  for  the  day.  About  three  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  waggon  was  the  crest  of  a  rise 
covered  with  single  mimosa-trees,  dotted  about  in 
a  park-like  fashion,  and  beyond  this  was  a  stretch 
of  open  plain  running  down  to  a  dry  pan,  or  water- 
hole,  which  covered  about  an  acre  of  ground,  and 
was  densely  clothed  with  reeds,  now  in  the  sear  and 
yellow  leaf.  From  the  farther  edge  of  this  pan 
the  ground  sloped  up  again  to  the  great  cleft,  or 
nullah,  which  had  been  cut  out  by  the  action  of 
water,  and  was  pretty  thickly  sprinkled  with  bush, 
among  which  grew  some  large  trees,  I  forget  of 
what  sort. 

"  It  at  once  struck  me  that  the  dry  pan  would 
be  a  likely  place  to  find  my  friends  in,  as  there  is 
nothing  a  lion  is  fonder  of  than  lying  up  in  reeds, 
through  which  he  can  see  things  without  being 
seen  himself.  Accordingly  thither  I  went  and  pro- 
spected. Before  I  had  got  half-way  round  the  pan  I 


46  LONG   ODDS. 

found  the  remains  of  a  blue  vilder-beeste  that  had 
evidently  been  killed  within  the  last  three  or  four 
days  and  partially  devoured  by  lions;  and  from 
other  indications  about  I  was  soon  assured  that  if 
the  family  were  not  in  the  pan  that  day,  they 
spent  a  good  deal  of  their  spare  time  there.  But 
if  there,  the  question  was  how  to  get  them  out ;  for 
it  was  clearly  impossible  to  think  of  going  in  after 
them  unless  one  was  quite  determined  to  commit 
suicide.  Now  there  was  a  strong  wind  blowing 
from  the  direction  of  the  waggon,  across  the  reedy 
pan,  toward  the  bush-clad  kloof  or  donga,  and  this 
first  gave  me  the  idea  of  firing  the  reeds,  which,  as 
I  think  I  told  you,  were  pretty  dry.  Accordingly 
Tom  took  some  matches  and  began  starting  little 
fires  to  the  left,  and  I  did  the  same  to  the  right. 
But  the  reeds  were  still  green  at  the  bottom,  and 
we  should  never  have  got  them  well  alight  had  it 
not  been  for  the  wind,  which  got  stronger  and 
stronger  as  the  sun  got  higher,  and  forced  the  fire 
into  them.  At  last,  after  half  an  hour's  trouble, 
the  flames  got  a  hold,  and  began  to  spread  out  like 
a  fan,  whereupon  I  got  round  to  the  farther  side 
of  the  pan  to  wait  for  the  lions,  standing  well  out 
in  the  open,  as  we  stood  at  the  copse  to-day  where 
you  shot  the  woodcock.  It  was  a  rather  risky 
thing  to  do,  but  I  used  to  be  so  sure  of  my  shoot- 
ing in  those  days  that  I  did  not  so  much  mind  the 
risk.  Scarcely  had  I  got  round  when  I  heard  the 
reeds  parting  before  the  onward  rush  of  some 
animal.  '  Now  for  it,'  said  I.  On  it  came.  I 


LONG   ODDS.  47 

could  see  that  it  was  yellow,  and  prepared  for 
action,  when  instead  of  a  lion  out  bounded  a  beau- 
tiful rietbok  which  had  been  lying  in  the  shelter 
of  the  pan.  It  must,  by  the  way,  have  been  a  riet- 
bok of  a  peculiarly  confiding  nature  to  lay  itself 
down  with  the  lion  like  the  lamb  of  prophecy,  but 
I  suppose  that  the  reeds  were  thick,  and  that  it 
kept  a  long  way  off. 

"  Well,  I  let  the  rietbok  go,  and  it  went  like  the 
wind,  and  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  reeds.  The 
fire  was  burning  like  a  furnace  now ;  the  flames 
crackling  and  roaring  as  they  bit  into  the  reeds, 
sending  spouts  of  fire  twenty  feet  and  more  into 
the  air,  and  making  the  hot  air  dance  above  it  in 
a  way  that  was  perfectly  dazzling.  But  the  reeds 
were  still  half  green,  and  created  an  enormous 
quantity  of  smoke,  which  came  rolling  toward  me 
like  a  curtain,  lying  very  low  on  account  of  the 
wind.  Presently,  above  the  crackling  of  the  fire, 
I  heard  a  startled  roar,  then  another  and  another. 
So  the  lions  were  at  home. 

"  I  was  beginning  to  get  excited  now,  for,  as  you 
fellows  know,  there  is  nothing  in  experience  to 
warm  up  your  nerves  like  a  lion  at  close  quarters, 
unless  it  is  a  wounded  buffalo ;  and  I  got  still 
more  so  when  I  made  out  through  the  smoke  that 
the  lions  were  all  moving  about  on  the  extreme 
edge  of  the  reeds.  Occasionally  they  would  pop 
their  heads  out  like  rabbits  from  a  burrow,  and 
then,  catching  sight  of  me  standing  about  fifty 
yards  out,  draw  them  back  again.  I  knew  that  it 


48  LONG   ODDS. 

must  be  getting  pretty  warm  behind  them,  and 
that  they  could  not  keep  the  game  up  for  long ; 
and  I  was  not  mistaken,  for  suddenly  all  four  of 
them  broke  cover  together,  the  old  black-maned 
lion  leading  by  a  few  yards.  I  never  saw  a  more 
splendid  sight  in  all  my  hunting  experience  than 
those  four  lions  bounding  across  the  veldt,  over- 
shadowed by  the  dense  pall  of  smoke  and  backed 
by  the  fiery  furnace  of  the  burning  reeds. 

"  I  reckoned  that  they  would  pass,  on  their  road 
to  the  bushy  kloof,  within  about  five  and  twenty 
yards  of  me ;  so,  taking  a  long  breath,  I  got  my 
gun  well  on  to  the  lion's  shoulder — the  black- 
maned  one — so  as  to  allow  for  an  inch  or  two  of 
motion,  and  catch  him  through  the  heart.  I  was 
on,  dead  on,  and  my  finger  was  just  beginning  to 
tighten  on  the  trigger,  when  suddenly  I  went  blind 
— a  bit  of  reed-ash  had  drifted  into  my  right  eye. 
I  danced  and  rubbed,  and  got  it  more  or  less  clear 
just  in  time  to  see  the  tail  of  the  last  lion  vanishing 
round  the  bushes  up  the  kloof. 

"  If  ever  a  man  was  mad  I  was  that  man.  It 
was  too  bad;  and  such  a  shot  in  the  open,  too! 
However,  I  was  not  going  to  be  beaten,  so  I 
just  turned  and  marched  for  the  kloof.  Tom,  the 
driver,  begged  and  implored  me  not  to  go;  but 
though  as  a  general  rule  I  never  pretended  to  be 
very  brave  (which  I  am  not),  I  was  determined 
that  I  would  either  kill  those  lions  or  they  should 
kill  me.  So  I  told  Tom  that  he  need  not  come 
unless  he  liked,  but  I  was  going;  and  being  a 


LONG   ODDS.  49 

plucky  fellow,  a  Swazi  by  birth,  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  muttered  that  I  was  mad  or  bewitched, 
and  followed  doggedly  in  my  tracks. 

"  We  soon  got  to  the  kloof,  which  was  about 
three  hundred  yards  in  length  and  but  sparsely 
wooded,  and  then  the  real  fun  began.  There 
might  be  a  lion  behind  every  bush — there  certainly 
were  four  lions  somewhere ;  the  delicate  question 
was,  where.  I  peeped  and  poked  and  looked  in 
every  possible  direction,  with  my  heart  in  my 
mouth,  and  was  at  last  rewarded  by  catching  a 
glimpse  of  something  yellow  moving  behind  a 
bush.  At  the  same  moment,  from  another  bush 
opposite  me  out  burst  one  of  the  cubs  and  galloped 
back  toward  the  burned-out  pan.  I  whipped  round 
and  let  drive  a  snap-shot  that  tipped  him  head 
over  heels,  breaking  his  back  within  two  inches  of 
the  root  of  the  tail,  and  there  he  lay  helpless  but 
glaring.  Tom  afterward  killed  him  with  his  as- 
segai. I  opened  the  breech  of  the  gun  and  hur- 
riedly pulled  out  the  old  case,  which,  to  judge  from 
what  ensued,  must,  I  suppose,  have  burst  and  left  a 
portion  of  its  fabric  sticking  to  the  barrel.  At  any 
rate,  when  I  tried  to  get  in  the  new  case  it  would 
only  enter  half-way ;  and — would  you  believe  it? 
— this  was  the  moment  that  the  lioness,  attracted 
no  doubt  by  the  outcry  of  her  cub,  chose  to  put  in 
an  appearance.  There  she  stood,  twenty  paces  or 
so  from  me,  lashing  her  tail  and  looking  just  as 
wicked  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  Slowly  I 
stepped  backward,  trying  to  push  in  the  new 


50  LONG   ODDS. 

case,  and  as  I  did  so  she  moved  on  in  little  runs, 
dropping  down  after  each  run.  The  danger  was 
imminent,  and  the  case  would  not  go  in.  At  the 
moment  I  oddly  enough  thought  of  the  cartridge- 
maker,  whose  name  I  will  not  mention,  and  ear- 
nestly hoped  that  if  the  lion  got  me  some  condign 
punishment  would  overtake  him.  It  would  not  go 
in,  so  I  tried  to  pull  it  out.  It  would  not  come 
out,  either,  and  my  gun  was  useless  if  I  could  not 
shut  it  to  use  the  other  barrel.  I  might  as  well 
have  had  no  gun.  Meanwhile  I  was  walking  back- 
ward, keeping  my  eye  on  the  lioness,  who  was 
creeping  forward  on  her  belly  without  a  sound, 
but  lashing  her  tail  and  keeping  her  eye  on  me ;  and 
in  it  I  saw  that  she  was  coming  in  a  few  seconds 
more.  I  dashed  my  wrist  and  the  palm  of  my 
hand  against  the  brass  rim  of  the  cartridge  till  the 
blood  poured  from  them — look,  there  are  the  scars 
of  it  to  this  day!" 

Here  Quatermain  held  up  his  right  hand  to  the 
light  and  showed  us  seven  or  eight  white  cicatrices 
just  where  the  wrist  is  set  into  the  hand. 

"  But  it  was  not  of  the  slightest  use,"  he  went 
on ;  "  the  cartridge  would  not  move.  I  only  hope 
that  no  other  man  will  ever  be  put  in  such  an 
awful  position.  The  lioness  gathered  herself  to- 
gether, and  I  gave  myself  up  for  lost,  when  sud- 
denly Tom  shouted  out  from  somewhere  in  my 
rear: 

" '  You  are  walking  on  to  the  wounded  cub ;  turn 
to  the  right.' 


LONG    ODDS.  51 

"  I  had  the  sense,  dazed  as  I  was,  to  take  the 
hint,  and  slewing  round  at  right  angles,  but  still 
keeping  my  eyes  on  the  lioness,  I  continued  my 
backward  walk. 

"To  my  intense  relief,  with  a  low  growl  she 
straightened  herself,  turned,  and  bounded  off  far- 
ther up  the  kloof. 

"  'Come  on,  inkoos,'  said  Tom ;  '  let 's  get  back 
to  the  waggon.' 

"  '  All  right,  Tom,'  I  answered.  '  I  will  when  I 
have  killed  those  three  other  lions,'  for  by  this  time 
I  was  bent  on  shooting  them  as  I  never  remember 
being  bent  on  anything  before  or  since.  '  You  can 
go  if  you  like,  or  you  can  get  up  a  tree.' 

"  He  considered  the  position  a  little,  and  then 
he  very  wisely  got  up  a  tree.  I  wish  that  I  had 
done  the  same. 

"  Meanwhile  I  had  got  out  my  knife,  which  had 
an  extractor  in  it,  and  succeeded  after  some  diffi- 
culty in  hauling  out  the  case  which  had  so  nearly 
been  the  cause  of  my  death,  and  removing  the  ob- 
struction in  the  barrel.  It  was  very  little  thicker 
than  a  postage-stamp  ;  certainly  not  thicker  than  a 
piece  of  writing-paper.  This  done  I  loaded  the 
gun,  bound  my  handkerchief  round  my  wrist  and 
hand  to  stanch  the  flowing  of  the  blood,  and 
started  on  again. 

"I  had  noticed  that  the  lioness  went  into  a 
thick  green  bush,  or  rather  cluster  of  bushes,  grow- 
ing near  the  water ;  for  there  was  a  little  stream 
running  down  the  kloof,  about  fifty  yards  higher 


52  LONG    ODDS. 

up,  and  for  this  I  made.  When  I  got  there,  how- 
ever, I  could  see  nothing,  so  I  took  up  a  big  stone 
and  threw  it  into  the  bushes.  I  believe  that  it  hit 
the  other  cub,  for  out  it  came  with  a  rush,  giving 
me  a  broadside  shot  of  which  I  promptly  availed 
myself,  knocking  it  over  dead.  Out,  too,  came  the 
lioness  like  a  flash  of  light,  but  quick  as  she  went 
I  managed  to  put  the  other  bullet  into  her  ribs,  so 
that  she  rolled  right  over  three  times  like  a  shot 
rabbit.  I  instantly  got  two  more  cartridges  into 
the  gun,  and  as  I  did  so  the  lioness  got  up  again 
and  came  crawling  toward  me  on  her  fore  paws, 
roaring  and  groaning,  and  with  such  an  expression 
of  diabolical  fury  on  her  countenance  as  I  have 
not  often  seen.  I  shot  her  again  through  the 
chest,  and  she  fell  over  on  to  her  side  quite  dead. 
"  That  was  the  first  and  last  time  that  I  ever  killed 
a  brace  of  lions  right  and  left,  and,  what  is  more, 
I  never  heard  of  anybody  else  doing  it.  Naturally 
I  was  considerably  pleased  with  myself,  and,  hav- 
ing again  loaded  up,  went  on  to  look  for  the  black- 
maned  beauty  who  had  killed  Kaptein.  Slowly 
and  with  the  greatest  care  I  proceeded  up  the 
kloof,  searching  every  bush  and  tuft  of  grass  as  I 
went.  It  was  wonderfully  exciting  work,  for  I 
never  was  sure  from  one  moment  to  another  but 
that  he  would  be  on  me.  I  took  comfort,  how- 
ever, from  the  reflection  that  a  lion  rarely  attacks 
a  man, — rarely,  I  say;  sometimes  he  does,  as  you 
will  see, — unless  he  is  cornered  or  wounded.  I 
must  have  been  nearly  an  hour  hunting  after  the 


LONG  ODDS.  53 

lion.  Once  I  thought  I  saw  something  move  in  a 
clump  of  tambouki  grass,  but  I  could  not  be  sure, 
and  when  I  trod  out  the  grass  I  could  not  find  him. 

"  At  last  I  got  up  to  the  head  of  the  kloof,  which 
made  a  cul-de-sac.  It  was  formed  of  a  wall  of 
rock  about  fifty  feet  high.  Down  this  rock  trickled 
a  little  waterfall,  and  in  front  of  it,  some  seventy 
feet  from  its  face,  was  a  great  piled-up  mass  of 
boulders,  in  the  crevices  and  on  the  top  of  which 
grew  ferns  and  grass  and  stunted  bushes.  This 
mass  was  about  twenty-five  feet  high.  The  sides  of 
the  kloof  here  were  also  very  steep.  Well,  I  got  up 
to  the  top  of  the  nullah  and  looked  all  round.  No 
signs  of  the  lion.  Evidently  I  had  either  over- 
looked him  farther  down,  or  he  had  escaped  right 
away.  It  was  very  vexatious ;  but  still  three  lions 
were  not  a  bad  bag  for  one  gun  before  dinner,  and 
I  was  fain  to  be  content.  Accordingly  I  departed 
back  again,  making  my  way  round  the  isolated 
pillar  of  boulders,  and  beginning  to  feel  that  I 
was  pretty  well  done  up  with  excitement  and 
fatigue,  and  should  be  more  so  before  I  had 
skinned  those  three  lions.  When  I  had  got,  as 
nearly  as  I  could  judge,  about  eighteen  yards  past 
the  pillar  or  mass  of  boulders,  I  turned  to  have  an- 
other look  round.  I  have  a  pretty  sharp  eye,  but 
I  could  see  nothing  at  all. 

"Then,  on  a  sudden,  I  saw  something  suffi- 
ciently alarming.  On  the  top  of  the  mass  of  boul- 
ders, opposite  to  me,  standing  out  clear  against  the 
rock  beyond,  was  the  huge  black-maned  lion. 


54  tONG   ODDS. 

He  had  been  crouching  there,  and  now  arose  as 
though  by  magic.  There  he  stood  lashing  his  tail, 
just  like  a  statue  of  the  animal  on  the  gateway  of 
Northumberland  House  that  I  have  seen  a  picture 
of.  But  he  did  not  stand  long.  Before  I  could 
fire— before  I  could  do  more  than  get  the  gun  to 
my  shoulder— he  sprang  straight  up  and  out  from 
the  rock,  and,  driven  by  the  impetus  of  that  one 
mighty  bound,  came  hurtling  through  the  air  to- 
ward me. 

"Heavens!  how  grand  he  looked,  and  how 
awful!  High  into  the  air  he  flew,  describing  a 
great  arch.  Just  as  he  touched  the  highest  point 
of  his  spring  I  fired.  I  did  not  dare  to  wait,  for  I 
saw  that  he  would  clear  the  whole  space  and  land 
right  upon  me.  Without  a  sight,  almost  without 
aim,  I  fired,  as  one  would  fire  a  snap-shot  at  a 
snipe.  The  bullet  told,  for  I  distinctly  heard  its 
thud  above  the  rushing  sound  caused  by  the  pas- 
sage of  the  lion  through  the  air.  Next  second  I 
was  swept  to  the  ground  (luckily  I  fell  into  a  low, 
creeper-clad  bush,  which  broke  the  shock),  and  the 
lion  was  on  the  top  of  me,  and  the  next  those 
great  white  teeth  of  his  had  met  in  my  thigh— I 
heard  them  grate  against  the  bone.  I  yelled  out 
in  agony,  for  I  did  not  feel  in  the  least  benumbed 
and  happy,  like  Dr.  Livingstone, — whom,  by  the 
way,  I  knew  very  well, — and  gave  myself  up  for 
dead.  But  suddenly,  as  I  did  so,  the  lion's  grip 
on  my  thigh  loosened,  and  he  stood  over  me, 
swaying  to  and  fro,  his  huge  mouth,  from  which 


LONG   ODDS.  55 

the  blood  was  gushing,  wide  opened.  Then  he 
roared,  and  the  sound  shook  the  rocks. 

"  To  and  fro  he  swung,  and  suddenly  the  great 
head  dropped  on  me,  knocking  all  the  breath  from 
my  body,  and  he  was  dead.  My  bullet  had  en- 
tered in  the  centre  of  his  chest  and  passed  out  on 
the  right  side  of  the  spine  about  half-way  down  the 
back. 

"  The  pain  of  my  wound  kept  me  from  fainting, 
and  as  soon  as  I  got  my  breath  I  managed  to 
drag  myself  from  under  him.  Thank  heavens,  his 
great  teeth  had  not  crushed  my  thigh-bone ;  but  I 
was  losing  a  great  deal  of  blood,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  timely  arrival  of  Tom,  with  whose  aid 
I  got  the  handkerchief  off  my  wrist  and  tied  it 
round  my  leg,  twisting  it  tight  with  a  stick,  I  think 
I  should  have  bled  to  death. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  just  reward  for  my  folly  in  try- 
ing to  tackle  a  family  of  lions  single-handed.  The 
odds  were  too  long.  I  have  been  lame  ever  since, 
and  shall  be  to  my  dying  day ;  in  the  month  of 
March  the  wound  always  troubles  me  a  great  deal, 
and  every  three  years  it  breaks  out  raw.  I  need 
scarcely  add  that  I  never  traded  the  lot  of  ivory 
at  Sikukuni's.  Another  man  got  it — a  German — 
and  made  five  hundred  pounds  out  of  it  after  pay- 
ing expenses.  I  spent  the  next  month  on  the 
broad  of  my  back,  and  was  a  cripple  for  six 
months  after  that.  And  now  I  've  told  you  the 
yarn,  so  I  will  have  a  drop  of  hollands  and  go 
to  bed." 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT 

A  WEST   AFRICAN   STORY 

BY 

I.  LANDERS 


KING    BEMBA'S    POINT 

A    WEST    AFRICAN    STORY 
BY   J.    LANDERS 

WE  were  for  the  most  part  a  queer  lot  out  on 
that  desolate  southwest  African  coast,  in 
charge  of  the  various  trading  stations  that  were 
scattered  along  the  coast,  from  the  Gaboon  River, 
past  the  mouth  of  the  mighty  Congo,  to  the 
Portuguese  city  of  St.  Paul  de  Loanda.  A  mix- 
ture of  all  sorts,  especially  of  bad  sorts :  broken- 
down  clerks,  men  who  could  not  succeed  any- 
where else,  sailors,  youths,  and  some  whose  char- 
acters would  not  have  borne  any  investigation ;  and 
we  very  nearly  all  drank  hard,  and  those  who 
did  n't  drink  hard  took  more  than  was  good  for 
them. 

I  don't  know  exactly  what  induced  me  to  go 
out  there.  I  was  young  for  one  thing,  the  country 
was  unknown,  the  berth  was  vacant,  and  the  con- 
ditions of  it  easy. 

Imagine  a  high  rocky  point  or  headland,  stretch- 
ing out  sideways  into  the  sea,  and  at  its  base  a 
small  river  winding  into  a  country  that  was  seem- 


60  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

ingly  a  blank  in  regard  to  inhabitants  or  cultiva- 
tion ;  a  land  continuing  for  miles  and  miles,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  see,  one  expanse  of  long  yellow 
grass,  dotted  here  and  there  with  groups  of  bastard 
palms.  In  front  of  the  headland  rolled  the  lonely 
South  Atlantic;  and,  as  if  such  conditions  were 
not  dispiriting  enough  to  existence  upon  the  Point, 
there  was  yet  another  feature  which  at  times  gave 
the  place  a  still  more  ghastly  look.  A  long  way 
off  the  shore,  the  heaving  surface  of  the  ocean 
began,  in  anything  like  bad  weather,  to  break  upon 
the  shoals  of  the  coast.  Viewed  from  the  top  of 
the  rock,  the  sea  at  such  times  looked,  for  at  least 
two  miles  out,  as  if  it  were  scored  over  with  lines 
of  white  foam ;  but  lower  down,  near  the  beach, 
each  roller  could  be  distinctly  seen,  and  each  roller 
had  a  curve  of  many  feet,  and  was  an  enormous 
mass  of  water  that  hurled  itself  shoreward  until  it 
curled  and  broke. 

When  I  first  arrived  on  the  Point  there  was,  I 
may  say,  only  one  house  upon  it,  and  that  be- 
longed to  Messrs.  Flint  Brothers,  of  Liverpool. 
It  was  occupied  by  one  solitary  man  named  Jack- 
son; he  had  had  an  assistant,  but  the  assistant 
had  died  of  fever,  and  I  was  sent  to  replace  him. 
Jackson  was  a  man  of  fifty  at  least,  who  had 
been  a  sailor  before  he  had  become  an  African 
trader.  His  face  bore  testimony  to  the  winds  and 
weather  it  had  encountered,  and  wore  habitually 
a  grave,  if  not  melancholy,  expression.  He  was 
rough  but  kind  to  me,  and  though  strict  was  just, 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  61 

which  was  no  common  feature  in  an  old  African 
hand  to  one  who  had  just  arrived  on  the  coast. 

He  kept  the  factory — we  called  all  houses  on  the 
coast  factories — as  neat  and  clean  as  if  it  had  been 
a  ship.  He  had  the  floor  of  the  portion  we  dwelt 
in  holystoned  every  week;  and  numberless  little 
racks  and  shelves  were  fitted  up  all  over  the  house. 
The  outside  walls  glittered  with  paint,  and  the  yard 
was  swept  clean  every  morning ;  and  every  Sunday, 
at  eight  o'clock  and  sunset,  the  ensign  was  hoisted 
and  lowered,  and  an  old  cannon  fired  at  the  word 
of  command.  Order  and  rule  were  with  Jackson 
observed  from  habit,  and  were  strictly  enforced  by 
him  on  all  the  natives  employed  in  the  factory. 

Although  I  have  said  the  country  looked  as  if 
uninhabited,  there  were  numerous  villages  hidden 
away  in  the  long  grass  and  brushwood,  invisible  at 
a  distance,  being  huts  of  thatch  or  mud,  and  not 
so  high  as  the  grass  among  which  they  were 
placed.  From  these  villages  came  most  of  our 
servants,  and  also  the  middlemen,  who  acted  as 
brokers  between  us,  the  white  men,  and  the  negroes 
who  brought  ivory  and  gum  and  india-rubber 
from  the  far  interior  for  sale.  Our  trade  was  prin- 
cipally in  ivory,  and  when  an  unusually  large  num- 
ber of  elephants'  tusks  arrived  upon  the  Point  for 
sale,  it  would  be  crowded  with  Bushmen,  strange 
and  uncouth,  and  hideously  ugly,  and  armed,  and 
then  we  would  be  very  busy;  for  sometimes  as 
many  as  two  hundred  tusks  would  be  brought  to 
us  at  the  same  time,  and  each  of  these  had  to  be 


62  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

bargained  for  and  paid  for  by  exchange  of  cotton 
cloths,  guns,  knives,  powder,  and  a  host  of  small 
wares. 

For  some  time  after  my  arrival  our  factory, 
along  with  the  others  on  the  coast  belonging  to 
Messrs.  Flint  Brothers,  was  very  well  supplied  by 
them  with  goods  for  the  trade;  but  by  degrees 
their  shipments  became  less  frequent,  and  small 
when  they  did  come.  In  spite  of  repeated  letters 
we  could  gain  no  reason  from  the  firm  for  this 
fact,  nor  could  the  other  factories,  and  gradually 
we  found  ourselves  with  an  empty  storehouse,  and 
nearly  all  our  goods  gone.  Then  followed  a 
weary  interval,  during  which  we  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do,  and  day  succeeded  day  through 
the  long  hot  season.  It  was  now  that  I  began  to 
feel  that  Jackson  had  become  of  late  more  silent 
and  reserved  with  me  than  ever  he  had  been.  I 
noticed,  too,  that  he  had  contracted  a  habit  of 
wandering  out  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  Point, 
where  he  would  sit  for  hours  gazing  upon  the 
ocean  before  him.  In  addition  to  this,  he  grew 
morose  and  uncertain  in  his  temper  toward  the 
natives,  and  sometimes  he  would  fall  asleep  in  the 
evenings  on  a  sofa,  and  talk  to  himself  at  such  a 
rate  while  asleep  that  I  would  grow  frightened, 
and  wake  him,  when  he  would  stare  about  him  for 
a  little  until  he  gathered  consciousness,  and  then 
he  would  stagger  off  to  bed  to  fall  asleep  again  al- 
most immediately.  Also,  his  hands  trembled  much, 
and  he  began  to  lose  flesh.  All  this  troubled  me, 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  63 

for  his  own  sake  as  well  as  my  own,  and  I  resolved 
to  ask  him  to  see  the  doctor  of  the  next  mail- 
steamer  that  came.  With  this  idea  I  went  one 
day  to  the  end  of  the  Point,  and  found  him  in  his 
usual  attitude,  seated  on  the  long  grass,  looking 
seaward.  He  did  not  hear  me  approach,  and 
when  I  spoke  he  started  to  his  feet,  and  demanded 
fiercely  why  I  disturbed  him.  I  replied,  as  mildly 
as  I  could,  for  I  was  rather  afraid  of  the  glittering 
look  that  was  in  his  eyes,  that  I  wished  to  ask  him 
if  he  did  not  feel  ill. 

He  regarded  me  with  a  steady  but  softened 
glance  for  a  little,  and  then  said: 

"  My  lad,  I  thank  you  for  your  trouble ;  but  I 
want  no  doctor.  Do  you  think  I  'm  looking  ill?  " 

"Indeed  you  are,"  I  answered,  "ill  and  thin; 
and,  do  you  know,  I  hear  you  talk  to  yourself  in 
your  sleep  nearly  every  night." 

"  What  do  I  say  ?  "  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"That  I  cannot  tell,"  I  replied.  "It  is  all 
rambling  talk;  the  same  things  over  and  over 
again,  and  nearly  all  about  one  person — Lucy." 

"Boy!"  he  cried  out,  as  if  in  pain,  or  as  if 
something  had  touched  him  to  the  quick,  "  sit  you 
down,  and  I  'II  tell  you  why  I  think  of  her — she 
was  my  wife." 

He  moved  nearer  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
we  sat  down,  almost  over  the  restless  sea  beneath 
us. 

"  She  lives  in  my  memory,"  he  continued,  speak- 
ing more  to  himself  than  to  me,  and  looking  far 


64  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

out  to  the  horizon,  beneath  which  the  setting  sun 
had  begun  to  sink,  "in  spite  of  all  I  can  do  or 
think  of  to  make  her  appear  base  in  my  eyes. 
For  she  left  me  to  go  with  another  man — a 
scoundrel.  This  was  how  it  was,"  he  added, 
quickly :  "  I  married  her,  and  thought  her  as  pure 
as  a  flower ;  but  I  could  not  take  her  to  sea  with 
me  because  I  was  only  the  mate  of  a  vessel,  so  I 
left  her  among  her  own  friends,  in  the  village 
where  she  was  born.  In  a  little  cottage  by  herself 
I  settled  her,  comfortable  and  happy  as  I  thought. 
God!  how  she  hung  round  my  neck  and  sobbed 
when  I  went  away  the  first  time!  and  yet — yet — 
within  a  year  she  left  me."  And  he  stopped  for 
several  minutes,  resting  his  head  upon  his  hands. 
"  At  first  I  could  get  no  trace  of  her,"  he  resumed. 
"  Her  friends  knew  nothing  more  of  her  than  that 
she  had  left  the  village  suddenly.  Gradually  I 
found  out  the  name  of  the  scoundrel  who  had  se- 
duced her  away.  He  had  bribed  her  friends  so 
that  they  were  silent ;  but  I  overbribed  them  with 
the  last  money  that  I  had,  and  I  followed  him  and 
my  wife  on  foot.  I  never  found  them,  nor  did  I 
ever  know  why  she  had  deserted  me  for  him.  If 
I  had  only  known  the  reason;  if  I  could  have 
been  told  of  my  fault ;  if  she  had  only  written  to 
say  that  she  was  tired  of  me ;  that  I  was  too  old, 
too  rough  for  her  soft  ways, — I  think  I  could  have 
borne  the  heavy  stroke  the  villain  had  dealt  me 
better.  The  end  of  my  search  was  that  I  dropped 
down  in  the  streets  of  Liverpool,  whither  I  thought 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  65 

I  had  tracked  them,  and  was  carried  to  the  hos- 
pital with  brain-fever  upon  me.  Two  months 
afterward  I  came  out  cured,  and  the  sense  of  my 
loss  was  deadened  within  me,  so  that  I  could  go 
to  sea  again,  which  I  did,  before  the  mast,  under 
the  name  of  Jackson,  in  a  bark  that  traded  to 
this  coast  here."  And  the  old  sailor  rose  to  his 
feet  and  turned  abruptly  away,  leaving  me  sitting 
alone. 

I  saw  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  followed,  so  I 
stayed  where  I  was  and  watched  the  gray  twilight 
creep  over  the  face  of  the  sea,  and  the  night 
quickly  succeed  to  it.  Not  a  cloud  had  been  in 
the  sky  all  the  day  long,  and  as  the  darkness  in- 
creased the  stars  came  out,  until  the  whole  heavens 
were  studded  with  glittering  gems. 

Suddenly,  low  down,  close  to  the  sea,  a  point  of 
light  flickered  and  disappeared,  shone  again  for  a 
moment,  wavered  and  went  out,  only  to  reappear 
and  shine  steadily.  "A  steamer's  masthead  light," 
I  thought,  and  ran  to  the  house  to  give  the  news ; 
but  Jackson  had  already  seen  the  light,  and  pro- 
nounced it  to  be  that  of  a  mail-steamer,  and  shortly 
we  saw  her  side-lights,  and  the  sound  of  a  gun  an- 
nounced that  she  had  anchored  until  the  morning. 
At  daybreak  there  she  was,  dipping  her  sides  to 
the  swell  of  the  sea  as  it  rolled  beneath  her.  It 
was  my  duty  to  go  off  to  her  in  one  of  the  surf- 
boats  belonging  to  the  factory ;  and  so  I  scrambled 
down  the  cliff  to  the  little  strip  of  smooth  beach 
that  served  us  for  a  landing-place. 


66  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

When  I  arrived  there  I  found  that  the  white- 
crested  breakers  were  heavier  than  I  had  thought 
they  would  be.  However,  there  was  the  boat  ly- 
ing on  the  beach  with  its  prow  toward  the  waves, 
and  round  it  were  the  boat-boys  with  their  loin- 
cloths girded,  ready  to  start ;  so  I  clambered  into 
the  stern,  or  rather — for  the  boat  was  shaped  alike 
at  stem  and  stern — the  end  from  which  the  steers- 
man, or  patrao,  used  his  long  oar.  With  a  shout 
the  boys  laid  hold  of  the  sides  of  the  boat,  and  the 
next  moment  it  was  dancing  on  the  spent  waves 
next  to  the  beach.  The  patrao  kept  its  head 
steady,  and  the  boys  jumped  in  and  seized  the 
oars,  and  began  pulling  with  a  will,  standing  up 
to  their  stroke.  Slowly  the  heavy  craft  gathered 
way,  and  approached  a  dark  and  unbroken  roller 
that  hastened  toward  the  beach.  Then  the  patrao 
shouted  to  the  crew,  and  they  lay  on  their  oars,  and 
the  wave  with  a  roar  burst  right  in  front  of  the 
boat,  sending  the  spray  of  its  crest  high  above  our 
heads. 

" Rema!  retna  forfa!  "  ("  Row  strongly! ")  now 
shouted  the  patrao,  speaking  Portuguese,  as  mostly 
all  African  coast  natives  do ;  and  the  crew  gave 
way.  The  next  roller  we  had  to  meet  in  its 
strength;  and  save  for  the  steady  force  of  the 
patrao's  oar,  I  believe  it  would  have  tossed  us 
aside  and  we  would  have  been  swept  under  its 
curving  wall  of  water.  As  it  was,  the  good  boat 
gave  a  mighty  bound  as  it  felt  its  force,  and  its 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  67 

stem  pitched  high  into  the  air  as  it  slid  down  its 
broad  back  into  the  deep. 

Another  and  yet  another  wave  were  passed,  and 
we  could  now  see  them  breaking  behind  us,  shut- 
ting out  the  beach  from  view.  Then  the  last  roller 
was  overcome,  and  there  was  nothing  but  the  long 
heave  of  the  deep  sea  to  contend  against.  Pres- 
ently we  arrived  at  the  steamer,  whose  side  towered 
above  us — an  iron  wall. 

A  shout  came  to  me,  pitching  and  lurching  with 
the  boat  far  below,  "  Come  on  board  at  once." 
But  to  come  on  board  was  only  to  be  done  by 
watching  a  chance  as  the  boat  rose  on  the  top  of 
a  roller.  Taking  such  a  one,  I  seized  the  side- 
ropes,  swung  a  moment  in  mid-air,  and  the  next 
was  on  the  steamer's  clean  white  deck.  Before 
me  stood  a  tall  man  with  black  hair  and  whiskers 
and  dark  piercing  eyes,  who  asked  me  if  I  was  the 
agent  for  Flint  Brothers.  I  answered  that  the 
agent  was  on  shore,  and  that  I  was  his  assistant. 
Whereupon  he  informed  me  that  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed by  the  firm  to  liquidate  all  their  stations 
and  businesses  on  the  coast,  and  "he  would  be 
obliged  by  my  getting  his  luggage  into  the  boat." 
This  was  said  in  a  peremptory  sort  of  way,  as  if 
he  had  spoken  to  a  servant ;  and  very  much  against 
the  grain  I  obeyed  his  orders. 

That  the  man  was  new  to  the  coast  was  evident, 
and  my  consolation  was  that  he  would  be  very  soon 
sick  of  it  and  pretty  well  frightened  before  he  even 


68  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

got  on  shore,  for  the  weather  was  freshening  rap- 
idly, a  fact  of  which  he  appeared  to  take  no  heed. 
Not  so  the  boat-boys,  who  were  anxious  to  be  off. 
At  last  we  started,  and  I  soon  had  my  revenge.  As 
we  drew  near  the  shore  the  rollers  became  higher 
and  higher,  and  I  perceived  that  my  gentleman 
clutched  the  gunwale  of  the  boat  very  tightly,  and 
when  the  first  wave  that  showed  signs  of  breaking 
overtook  us,  he  grew  very  white  in  the  face  until 
it  had  passed. 

The  next  one  or  two  breakers  were  small,  much 
to  his  relief  I  could  see,  though  he  said  nothing. 
Before  he  had  well  recovered  his  equanimity,  how- 
ever, a  tremendous  wave  approached  us  somewhat 
suddenly.  Appalled  by  its  threatening  aspect,  he 
sprang  from  his  seat  and  seized  the  arm  of  the 
patrao,  who  roughly  shook  him  off. 

"  My  God! "  he  cried,  "  we  are  swamped! "  and 
for  the  moment  it  really  looked  like  it;  but  the 
patrao,  with  a  dexterous  sweep  of  his  long  oar, 
turned  the  boat's  head  toward  the  roller.  It 
broke  just  as  it  reached  us,  and  gave  us  the  benefit 
of  its  crest,  which  came  in  over  the  topsides  of  the 
boat  as  it  passed  by,  and  deluged  every  one  of  us. 

I  laughed,  although  it  was  no  laughing  matter, 
at  the  plight  the  liquidator  was  now  in.  He  was 
changed  in  a  moment  from  a  spruce  and  natty  per- 
sonage into  a  miserable  and  draggled  being.  From 
every  part  of  him  the  salt  water  was  streaming,  and 
the  curl  was  completely  taken  out  of  his  whiskers. 
He  could  not  speak  from  terror, which  the  boat-boys 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  69 

soon  saw,  for  none  are  quicker  than  negroes  to  de- 
tect signs  of  fear  in  those  whom  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  consider  superior  to  themselves.  Famil- 
iar with  the  surf,  and  full  of  mischievous  fun,  they 
began  to  shout  and  gesticulate  with  the  settled 
purpose  of  making  matters  appear  worse  than  they 
were,  and  of  enjoying  the  white  man's  discom- 
fiture,— all  but  the  patrao,  who  was  an  old  hand, 
and  on  whom  depended  the  safety  of  us  all.  He 
kept  a  steady  lookout  seaward,  and  stood  upright 
and  firm,  grasping  his  oar  with  both  hands.  With 
him  it  was  a  point  of  honour  to  bring  the  white 
men  intrusted  to  his  care  safely  through  the  surf. 

We  waited  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  bow  on, 
meeting  each  roller  as  it  came  to  us ;  and  by  the 
end  of  that  time  the  unfortunate  liquidator  had 
evidently  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  reaching  the 
shore.  Luckily,  the  worst  was  soon  to  pass.  After 
one  last  tremendous  wave  there  was  a  lull  for  a  few 
moments,  and  the  patrao,  who  had  watched  for 
such  a  chance,  swiftly  turned  the  boat  round,  and 
giving  the  word  to  the  crew,  they  pulled  lustily  to- 
ward the  shore.  In  a  few  minutes  we  were  again 
in  safety.  The  boat  grounded  on  the  beach ;  the 
oars  were  tossed  into  the  sea;  the  crew  sprang 
overboard ;  some  of  them  seized  the  new  arrival ;  I 
clambered  on  the  back  of  the  patrao ;  a  crowd  of 
negroes,  who  had  been  waiting  on  the  beach,  laid 
hold  of  the  tow-rope  of  the  boat,  and  it  and  we 
were  landed  simultaneously  on  the  dry  sand. 

Once  on  shore  Mr.  Bransome,  for  that  was  the 


70  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

new  man's  name,  rapidly  recovered  his  presence 
of  mind  and  manner,  and,  by  way  of  covering  his 
past  confusion,  remarked  that  he  supposed  the  surf 
was  seldom  so  bad  as  it  then  was.  I  replied  in  an 
offhand  way,  meaning  to  make  fun  of  him,  that 
what  he  had  passed  through  was  nothing,  and  ap- 
pealed to  the  patrao  to  confirm  what  I  had  said. 
That  negro,  seeing  the  joke,  grinned  all  over  his 
black  face ;  and  Mr.  Bransome,  perceiving  that  he 
was  being  laughed  at,  snatched  a  good-sized  stick 
from  a  native  standing  near,  and  struck  the  patrao 
repeatedly  over  the  back. 

In  vain  Sooka,  for  that  was  the  patrao's  name, 
protested,  and  demanded  to  know  what  wrong 
thing  he  had  done.  The  agent  was  furious,  and 
showered  his  blows  upon  the  black.  Equally  in 
vain  I  shouted  that  Sooka  had  done  well  by  us,  and 
that  he,  Mr.  Bransome,  was  making  an  enemy  of 
a  man  who  would  have  him  now  and  then  in  his 
power.  At  length  Sooka  took  to  his  heels,  and, 
sure  enough,  when  he  had  got  a  little  way  off,  he 
began  to  threaten  vengeance  for  what  he  had  re- 
ceived. I  sympathised  with  him,  for  I  knew  what 
a  loss  to  his  dignity  it  was  to  be  beaten  without 
cause  before  his  fellows,  and  I  feared  that  Mr. 
Bransome  would  indeed  be  sorry,  sooner  or  later, 
for  what  he  had  done. 

I  now  suggested  to  him,  by  way  of  diverting  his 
thoughts  from  poor  Sooka,  that  standing  on  the 
beach  in  wet  clothes  was  the  very  way  to  catch 
the  coast-fever  straight  off,  and  he  instantly  suf- 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  71 

fered  himself  to  be  carried  up  to  the  factory. 
There  Jackson  received  him  in  a  sotf  of  "  who  on 
earth  are  you?  "  manner ;  and  Mr.  Bransome,  clear- 
ing his  throat,  announced  himself  and  his  author- 
ity, adding  that  he  intended  to  make  the  factory 
a  point  of  departure  to  all  the  others  on  the  coast ; 
then,  very  abruptly,  he  requested  Jackson  to  pre- 
pare quarters  for  him  without  delay. 

The  change  that  came  over  Jackson's  face  as  he 
learned  the  quality  of  the  stranger  and  his  requests 
was  great.  The  old  salt,  who  had  been  king  of  his 
house  and  of  the  Point  for  so  long  a  time,  had 
evidently  never  even  thought  of  the  probability  of 
such  an  intrusion  as  was  now  presented  to  him,  and 
he  was  amazed  at  what  he  considered  to  be  the 
unwarrantable  assurance  of  the  stranger.  How- 
ever, he  recovered  himself  smartly,  and  asked  the 
new  man  if  he  had  any  written  credentials. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  he,  pulling  out  a  document 
all  wet  with  salt  water.  "  Here  is  a  letter  from 
Messrs.  Flint  Brothers,  of  which,  no  doubt,  you 
will  have  a  copy  in  your  mail-bag." 

Jackson  took  the  letter  and  opened  it,  and 
seemed  to  read  it  slowly  to  himself.  All  at  once 
he  started,  looked  at  the  new  agent,  advanced  a 
step  or  two  toward  him,  muttering,  "  Bransome, 
Bransome,"  then  stopped  and  asked  him  in  a 
strange  constrained  voice,  "  Is  your  name  Bran- 
some  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  latter,  astonished  at  the  old 
man's  question. 


74  KING  BEMBA'S 

"I  knew  a  Bransome  once,"  said  Jackson, 
steadily,  "and  he  was  a  scoundrel." 

For  a  moment  the  two  men  looked  at  each 
other — Jackson  with  a  gleam  of  hatred  in  his  eyes, 
while  Bransome  had  a  curiously  frightened  expres- 
sion on  his  face,  which  blanched  slightly.  But  he 
quickly  resumed  his  composure  and  peremptory 
way,  and  said,  "Show  me  a  room;  I  must  get 
these  wet  things  off  me." 

As,  however,  he  addressed  himself  this  time  to 
me  rather  than  to  Jackson, — who,  indeed,  regarded 
him  no  longer,  but  stood  with  the  letter  loose  in 
his  hand,  looking  at  the  floor  of  the  room,  as  if  in 
deep  meditation, — I  showed  him  into  my  own  room, 
where  I  ordered  his  trunks  to  be  brought.  These, 
of  course,  were  wet ;  but  he  found  some  things  in 
the  middle  of  them  that  were  not  more  than 
slightly  damp,  and  with  the  help  of  a  pair  of  old 
canvas  trousers  of  mine  he  managed  to  make  his 
appearance  at  dinner-time. 

Jackson  was  not  at  the  meal.  He  had  left  the 
house  shortly  after  his  interview  with  the  new 
agent,  and  had,  I  fancied,  gone  on  one  of  his 
solitary  rambles.  At  any  rate  he  did  not  return 
until  late  that  night. 

I  thought  Mr.  Bransome  seemed  to  be  some- 
what relieved  when  he  saw  that  the  old  man  was 
not  coming;  and  he  became  more  affable  than  I 
had  expected  him  to  be,  and  relinquished  his  ar- 
rogant style  altogether  when  he  began  to  question 
me  about  Jackson— who  he  was?  what  had  he 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  73 

been?  how  long  he  had  lived  on  the  coast?  To 
all  which  questions  I  returned  cautious  answers, 
remembering  that  I  was  under  a  promise  to  the  old 
man  not  to  repeat  his  story. 

By  the  next  morning,  to  my  surprise,  Jackson 
appeared  to  have  become  reconciled  to  the  fact 
that  he  had  been  superseded  by  a  man  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  coast,  and  of  his  own  accord  he 
offered  to  tell  Mr.  Bransome  the  clues  to  the 
letter-locks  on  the  doors  of  the  various  store- 
rooms ;  for  we  on  the  coast  used  none  but  letter- 
locks,  which  are  locks  that  do  not  require  a  key  to 
open  them.  But  Mr.  Bransome  expressed,  most 
politely,  a  wish  that  Jackson  should  consider  him- 
self still  in  charge  of  the  factory,  at  any  rate  until 
the  whole  estate  of  the  unfortunate  Flint  Brothers 
could  be  wound  up ;  and  he  trusted  that  his  pres- 
ence would  make  no  difference  to  him. 

This  was  a  change,  on  the  part  of  both  men, 
from  the  manners  of  the  previous  day ;  and  yet  I 
could  not  help  thinking  that  each  but  ill  concealed 
his  aversion  to  the  other. 

Months  now  slipped  away,  and  Mr.  Bransome 
was  occupied  in  going  up  and  down  the  coast  in 
a  little  steamer,  shutting  up  factory  after  factory, 
transferring  their  goods  to  ours,  and  getting  him- 
self much  disliked  by  all  the  Europeans  under 
him,  and  hated  by  the  natives,  especially  by  the 
boat -boys,  who  were  a  race  or  tribe  by  themselves, 
coming  from  one  particular  part  of  the  coast.  He 
had,  of  course,  been  obliged  to  order  the  dismissal 


74  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

of  many  of  them,  and  this  was  one  reason  why  they 
hated  him ;  but  the  chief  cause  was  his  treatment 
of  Sooka,  the  patrao.  That  man  never  forgave 
Mr.  Bransome  for  beating  him  so  unjustly;  and 
the  news  of  the  deed  had  travelled  very  quickly, 
as  news  does  in  savage  countries,  so  that  I  think 
nearly  all  Sooka's  countrymen  knew  of  the  act  and 
resented  it. 

Mr.  Bransome  was  quite  unaware  of  the  antip- 
athy he  had  thus  created  toward  himself,  except  so 
far  as  Sooka  was  concerned ;  and  him  he  never  em- 
ployed when  he  had  to  go  off  to  vessels  or  land 
from  them,  but  always  went  in  the  other  boat  be- 
longing to  the  factory,  which  was  steered  by  a 
much  younger  negro.  In  addition  to  humbling 
Sooka  in  this  way,  Bransome  took  the  opportu- 
nity of  disgracing  him  whenever  he  could  do  so. 
Therefore,  one  day  when  two  pieces  of  cloth  from 
the  cargo-room  were  found  in  the  boatmen's  huts, 
it  was  no  surprise  to  me  that  Sooka  was  at  once 
fastened  upon  by  Mr.  Bransome  as  the  thief  who 
had  stolen  them,  and  that  he  was  tied  to  the  flog- 
ging-post in  the  middle  of  the  yard,  and  sentenced 
to  receive  fifty  lashes  with  the  cat  that  was  kept 
for  such  a  purpose,  and  all  without  any  inquiry 
being  made.  In  vain  did  the  unfortunate  man 
protest  his  innocence.  A  swarthy  Kroot-boy  from 
Cape  Coast  laid  the  cat  on  his  brown  shoulders 
right  willingly,  for  he  also  was  an  enemy  of  Sooka's ; 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  poor  fellow's  flesh  was  cut 
and  scored  as  if  by  a  knife. 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  75 

After  the  flogging  was  over  Mr.  Bransome 
amused  himself  by  getting  out  his  rifle  and  firing 
fancy  shots  at  Sooka,  still  tied  to  the  post ;  that 
is,  he  tried  to  put  the  bullets  as  close  to  the  poor 
wretch  as  he  could  without  actually  wounding  him. 
To  a  negro,  with  his  dread  of  firearms,  this  was 
little  short  of  absolute  torture,  and  at  each  dis- 
charge Sooka  writhed  and  crouched  as  close  to  the 
ground  as  he  could,  while  his  wide-opened  eyes  and 
mouth,  and  face  of  almost  a  slate  colour,  showed 
how  terribly  frightened  he  was.  To  Mr.  Bransome 
it  appeared  to  be  fine  sport,  for  he  fired  at  least 
twenty  shots  at  the  man  before  he  shouldered  his 
rifle  and  went  indoors.  Jackson  said  nothing  to 
this  stupid  exhibition  of  temper,  but  as  soon  as  it 
was  over  he  had  Sooka  released ;  and  I  knew  he 
attended  to  his  wounds  himself,  and  poured  friar's- 
balsam  into  them,  and  covered  his  back  with  a  soft 
shirt — for  all  which,  no  doubt,  the  negro  was  after- 
ward grateful.  Whether  Mr.  Bransome  got  to 
know  of  this,  and  was  offended  at  it,  I  do  not 
know,  but  shortly  afterward  he  ceased  to  live 
with  us. 

There  was  between  the  factory  and  the  sea,  and 
a  little  to  the  right  of  the  former,  a  small  wooden 
cottage  which  had  been  allowed  to  fall  into  a 
dilapidated  state  from  want  of  some  one  to  live  in 
it.  This  Mr.  Bransome  gave  orders  to  the  native 
carpenters  to  repair  and  make  weather-tight ;  and 
when  they  had  done  so,  he  caused  a  quantity  of 
furniture  to  be  brought  from  St.  Paul  de  Loanda 


76  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

and  placed  within  it.  Then  he  transferred  himself 
and  his  baggage  to  the  cottage. 

Jackson  displayed  complete  indifference  to  this 
change  on  the  part  of  the  agent.  In  fact,  there  had 
been,  ever  since  the  arrival  of  the  latter  upon  the 
Point,  and  in  spite  of  apparent  friendliness,  a  per- 
ceptible breach,  widening  daily,  between  the  two 
men.  As  to  the  reason  of  this  I  had  my  own  sus- 
picions, for  I  had  made  the  discovery  that  Jackson 
had  for  some  time  past  been  drinking  very  heavily. 

In  addition  to  the  brandy  which  we  white  men 
had  for  our  own  use,  I  had,  to  my  horror,  found 
out  that  he  was  secretly  drinking  the  coarse  and 
fiery  rum  that  was  sold  to  the  natives;  and  as  I 
remembered  the  mutterings  and  meanings  that  had 
formerly  alarmed  me,  I  wondered  that  I  had  not 
guessed  the  cause  of  them  at  the  time ;  but  until 
the  arrival  of  Mr.  Bransome,  Jackson  had  always 
kept  charge  of  the  spirits  himself,  and  he  was  such  a 
secret  old  fellow  that  there  was  no  knowing  what  he 
had  then  taken.  Now  that  I  was  aware  of  his  fail- 
ing, I  was  very  sorry  for  the  old  sailor ;  for  on  such 
a  coast  and  in  such  a  climate  there  was  only  one 
end  to  it ;  and  although  I  could  not  actually  pre- 
vent him  from  taking  the  liquor,  I  resolved  to 
watch  him,  and  if  such  symptoms  as  I  had  seen  be- 
fore again  appeared,  to  tell  Mr.  Bransome  of  them 
at  all  hazards.  But  I  was  too  late  to  prevent  what 
speedily  followed  my  discovery.  It  had  come 
about  that  the  same  mail-steamer  that  had  brought 
out  Mr.  Bransome  had  again  anchored  off  the 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  77 

Point,  and  again  the  weather  was  coarse  and  low- 
ering. A  stiff  breeze  had  blown  for  some  days, 
which  made  the  rollers  worse  than  they  had  been 
for  a  long  while.  Both  Mr.  Bransome  and  Jackson 
watched  the  weather  with  eager  looks,  but  each 
was  differently  affected  by  it.  Bransome  appeared 
to  be  anxious  and  nervous,  while  Jackson  was  ex- 
cited, and  paced  up  and  down  the  veranda,  and 
kept,  strange  to  say,  for  it  was  contrary  to  his  late 
habit,  a  watch  upon  Bransome's  every  movement. 

Every  now  and  then,  too,  he  would  rub  his 
hands  together  as  if  in  eager  expectation,  and 
would  chuckle  to  himself  as  he  glanced  seaward. 
Of  his  own  accord  he  gave  orders  to  Sooka  to  get 
both  the  surf -boats  ready  for  launching,  and  to 
make  the  boys  put  on  their  newest  loin-cloths ;  and 
then,  when  everything  was  in  readiness,  he  asked 
Bransome  if  he  was  going  off  to  the  steamer. 

"I  fear  I  must,"  said  Bransome;  "but  I— I 
don't  like  the  look  of  those  cursed  rollers." 

At  this  Jackson  laughed,  and  said  something 
about  "  being  afraid  of  very  little." 

"The  beach  is  perfectly  good,"  he  added; 
"  Sooka  knows,  and  Sooka  is  the  oldest  patrao  on 
the  Point." 

And  Sooka,  who  was  standing  by,  made  a  low 
obeisance  to  the  agent,  and  said  that  "  the  beach 
lived  for  well,"  which  was  his  way  of  expressing  in 
English  that  the  sea  was  not  heavy. 

At  that  moment  a  gun  was  fired  from  the  steamer 
as  a  signal  to  be  quick,  and  Bransome  said,  "  I  will 


78  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

go,  but  not  in  that  black  blackguard's  boat ;  it  need 
not  come,"  and  he  went  down  to  the  beach. 

It  was  one  of  Jackson's  rules  that  when  a  boat 
went  through  the  surf  there  should  be  some  one  to 
watch  it,  so  I  walked  to  the  end  of  the  Point  to 
see  the  agent  put  off.  He  got  away  safely ;  and 
I,  seeing  Sooka's  boat  lying  on  the  beach,  and 
thinking  that  it  would  be  as  well  to  have  it  hauled  up 
under  the  boat-shed,  was  on  the  point  of  returning 
to  the  factory  to  give  the  necessary  order,  when,  to 
my  surprise,  I  saw  the  boat's  crew  rush  down  the 
beach  to  the  boat  and  begin  to  push  it  toward  the 
sea. 

I  waved  my  arms  as  a  signal  to  them  to  stop, 
but  they  paid  no  attention  to  me ;  and  I  saw  them 
run  the  boat  into  the  water,  jump  into  her,  and 
pull  off,  all  singing  a  song  to  their  stroke  in  their 
own  language,  the  sound  of  which  came  faintly  up 
to  the  top  of  the  Point.  "  Stupid  fellows! "  I  mut- 
tered to  myself,  "  they  might  have  known  that  the 
boat  was  not  wanted ; "  and  I  was  again  about  to 
turn  away,  when  I  was  suddenly  seized  from  be- 
hind, and  carried  to  the  very  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
then  as  suddenly  released. 

I  sprang  to  one  side,  and  turning  round  saw 
Jackson,  with  a  look  of  such  savage  fury  on  his 
face  that  I  retreated  a  step  or  two  in  astonish- 
ment at  him.  He  perceived  my  alarm,  and  burst 
out  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  which,  instead  of  re- 
assuring me,  had  the  opposite  effect,  it  was  so 
demoniacal  in  character.  "  Ha!  ha! "  he  laughed 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  79 

again,  "are  you  frightened?  "  and  advancing  to- 
ward me,  he  put  his  face  close  to  mine,  peering 
into  it  with  bloodshot  eyes,  while  his  breath,  reek- 
ing of  spirits,  poured  into  my  nostrils. 

Involuntarily  I  put  up  my  arm  to  keep  him  off. 
He  clutched  it,  and,  pointing  with  his  other  hand 
to  the  sea,  whispered  hoarsely,  "  What  do  you  hear 
of  the  surf?  Will  the  breakers  be  heavier  before 
sundown?  See  how  they  begin  to  curve!  Listen 
how  they  already  thunder,  thunder,  on  the  beach! 
I  tell  you  they  are  impatient — they  seek  some 
one,"  he  shouted.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  continued, 
lowering  his  voice  again,  and  speaking  almost  con- 
fidentially, "  sooner  or  later  some  one  is  drowned 
upon  that  bar?  "  And  even  as  he  spoke  a  fresh  line 
of  breakers  arose  from  the  deep,  farther  out  than 
any  had  been  before.  This  much  I  observed,  but 
I  was  too  greatly  unnerved  by  the  strange  manner 
of  Jackson  to  pay  further  heed  to  the  sea.  It  had 
flashed  across  my  mind  that  he  was  on  the  verge 
of  an  attack  of  delirium  tremens,  from  the  effects 
of  the  liquor  he  had  been  consuming  for  so  long, 
and  the  problem  was  to  get  him  back  to  the  house 
quietly. 

Suddenly  a  thought  struck  me.  Putting  my 
arm  within  his,  I  said,  as  coolly  as  I  could,  "  Never 
mind  the  sea,  Jackson ;  let  us  have  a  matabicho  " 
(our  local  expression  for  a  "  drink  ").  He  took  the 
bait,  and  came  away  quietly  enough  to  the  house. 
Once  there,  I  enticed  him  into  the  dining-room, 
and  shutting  to  the  door  quickly,  I  locked  it  on 


8o  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

the  outside,  resolving  to  keep  him  there  until  Mr. 
Bransome  should  return;  for,  being  alone,  I  was 
afraid  of  him. 

Then  I  went  back  to  the  end  of  the  Point  to 
look  for  the  return  of  the  two  boats.  When  I 
reached  it  I  saw  that  the  rollers  had  increased  in 
size  in  the  short  time  that  I  had  been  absent,  and 
that  they  were  breaking,  one  after  another,  as  fast 
as  they  could  come  shoreward ;  not  pygmy  waves, 
but  great  walls  of  water  that  seemed  from  their 
height  actually  to  waver  along  their  huge  length 
before  they  fell. 

A  surf  such  as  I  had  never  yet  seen  had  arisen. 
I  stood  and  anxiously  watched  through  a  glass  the 
boats  at  the  steamer's  side,  and  at  length,  to  my 
relief,  I  saw  one  of  them  leave  her,  but  as  it  came 
near  I  saw,  to  my  surprise,  that  Mr.  Bransome  was 
not  in  the  boat,  and  that  it  was  not  the  one  that 
Sooka  steered.  Quickly  it  was  overtaken  by  the 
breakers,  but  escaped  their  power,  and  came  in- 
shore on  the  back  of  a  majestic  roller  that  did  not 
break  until  it  was  close  to  the  beach,  where  the 
boat  was  in  safety. 

Not  without  vague  apprehension  at  his  impru- 
dence, but  still  not  anticipating  any  actual  harm 
from  it,  I  thought  that  Mr.  Bransome  had  chosen 
to  come  back  in  Sooka's  boat,  and  I  waited  and 
waited  to  see  //  return,  although  the  daylight  had 
now  so  waned  that  I  could  no  longer  distinguish 
what  was  going  on  alongside  the  steamer.  At  last 
I  caught  sight  of  the  boat,  a  white  speck  upon  the 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  81 

waters,  and,  just  as  it  entered  upon  the  dangerous 
part  of  the  bar,  I  discerned,  to  my  infinite  amaze- 
ment, that  two  figures  were  seated  in  the  stern — a 
man  and  a  woman — a  white  woman ;  I  could  see 
her  dress  fluttering  in  the  wind,  and  Sooka's  black 
figure  standing  behind  her. 

On  came  the  boat,  impelled  by  the  swift-flowing 
seas,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  it  was  tossed  on 
the  crests  of  the  waves.  Again  and  again  it  rose 
and  sank  with  them  as  they  came  rolling  in,  but 
somehow,  after  a  little  further  time,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  it  did  not  make  such  way  toward  the 
shore  as  it  should  have  done. 

I  lifted  the  glass  to  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  that  the 
boys  were  hardly  pulling  at  all,  though  the  boat 
was  now  close  to  the  rocks  that  were  near  the  cliff. 
Nor  did  Sooka  seem  to  be  conscious  of  a  huge 
roller  that  was  swiftly  approaching  him.  In  my 
excitement  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  shouting  to 
warn  those  in  the  boat  of  their  danger,  although  I 
knew  that  they  could  not  understand  what  I  might 
say,  when  I  saw  Jackson  standing  on  the  edge  of 
the  cliff,  a  little  way  off,  dressed  in  his  shirt  and 
trousers  only.  He  had  escaped  from  the  house! 
He  perceived  that  I  saw  him,  and  came  running 
up  to  me,  and  I  threw  myself  on  my  guard.  How- 
ever, he  did  not  attempt  to  touch  me,  but  stopped 
and  cried : 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  somebody  would  be 
drowned  by  those  waves?  Watch  that  boat !  watch 
it!  it  is  doomed ;  and  the  scoundrel,  the  villain,  who 


82  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

is  in  it  will  never  reach  the  shore  alive ! "  and  he 
hissed  the  last  word  through  his  clinched  teeth. 

"  Good  God,  Jackson! "  I  said,  "  don't  say  that! 
Look,  there  is  a  white  woman  in  the  boat! " 

At  the  words  his  jaw  dropped,  his  form,  which 
a  moment  before  had  swayed  with  excitement,  be- 
came rigid,  and  his  eyes  stared  at  me  as  if  he 
knew,  but  comprehended  not,  what  I  had  said. 
Then  he  slowly  turned  his  face  toward  the  sea, 
and,  as  he  did  so,  the  mighty  breaker  that  had 
been  coming  up  astern  of  the  boat  curled  over  it. 
For  a  moment  or  two  it  rushed  forward,  a  solid 
body  of  water,  carrying  the  boat  with  it ;  and  in 
those  moments  I  saw,  to  my  horror,  Sooka  give  one 
sweep  with  his  oar,  which  threw  the  boat's  side  to- 
ward the  roller.  I  saw  the  boat-boys  leap  clear 
of  the  boat  into  the  surf ;  I  saw  the  agonised  faces 
of  the  man  and  the  woman  upturned  to  the  wave 
above  them,  and  then  the  billow  broke,  and  noth- 
ing was  seen  but  a  sheet  of  frothy  water.  The  boat 
and  those  in  it  had  disappeared.  For  the  crew 
I  had  little  concern — I  knew  they  would  come 
ashore  safely  enough ;  but  for  Mr.  Bransome  and 
the  woman,  whoever  she  was,  there  was  little  hope. 
They  had  not  had  time  to  throw  themselves  into 
the  sea  before  the  boat  had  capsized,  and  their 
clothing  would  sink  them  in  such  a  surf,  even  if 
they  had  escaped  being  crushed  by  the  boat.  Be- 
sides, I  feared  there  had  been  some  foul  play  on 
the  part  of  Sooka.  Quickly  as  he  had  done  it,  I 
had  seen  him  with  his  oar  put  the  boat  beyond  the 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  83 

possibility  of  escaping  from  the  wave,  and  I  re- 
membered how  he  had  been  treated  by  Bransome. 

With  such  thoughts  I  ran  along  the  cliff  to  the 
pathway  that  led  down  to  the  beach ;  and  as  I  ran, 
I  saw  Jackson  running  before  me,  not  steadily  or 
rightly,  but  heavily,  and  swaying  from  side  to  side 
as  he  went.  Quickly  I  passed  him,  but  he  gave 
no  sign  that  he  knew  any  one  was  near  him ;  and 
as  I  leaped  down  on  to  the  first  ledge  of  rock 
below  me,  I  saw  that  he  was  not  following  me, 
but  had  disappeared  among  the  brushwood. 

When  I  got  down  to  the  beach,  I  found  that  the 
boat's  crew  had  reached  the  shore  in  safety,  but  of 
the  two  passengers  nothing  had  been  seen.  The 
capsized  boat  was  sometimes  visible  as  it  lifted  on 
the  rollers,  but  through  my  glass  I  saw  that  no  one 
was  clinging  to  it.  I  called  for  Sooka,  but  Sooka 
was  missing.  Every  one  had  seen  him  land,  but 
he  had  disappeared  mysteriously.  In  vain  I  ques- 
tioned the  other  boys  as  to  the  cause  of  the  dis- 
aster. The  only  answer  I  could  get  out  of  them 
was  an  appeal  to  look  at  the  sea  and  judge  for  my- 
self. The  woman  was  a  white  woman  from  the  big 
ship,  was  all  they  could  say  about  her ;  and,  negro- 
like,  they  evidently  considered  the  loss  of  a  woman 
or  so  of  very  little  consequence. 

All  I  could  do  was  to  set  a  watch  along  the 
beach  to  look  for  the  bodies  when  they  should  be 
washed  ashore,  and  this  done,  I  returned  to  the 
factory.  My  next  desire  was  to  find  Sooka.  He 
could  hardly  have  gone  far,  so  I  sent  for  a  runner 


84  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

to  take  a  message  to  the  native  king  under  who^e 
protection  we  on  the  Point  were,  and  after  whom 
the  Point  was  called,  and  who  was  bound  to  find 
the  missing  man  for  me  if  he  could,  or  if  he  had 
not  been  bribed  to  let  him  pass. 

In  my  sorrow  at  what  had  happened,  and  in  my 
doubt  as  to  the  cause  of  it,  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  Jackson;  but  after  I  had  despatched  my 
messenger  to  the  king,  I  went  to  look  for  him.  I 
discovered  him  crouching  in  a  corner  of  his  own 
bedroom  in  the  dark. 

"Are  they  found?"  he  asked,  in  a  voice  so 
hollow  and  broken  that  I  hardly  knew  it ;  and  be- 
fore I  could  answer  him,  he  whispered  to  himself, 
"  No,  no ;  they  are  drowned — drowned." 

I  tried  to  lead  him  into  the  lighted  dining-room, 
but  he  only  crouched  the  closer  to  his  corner.  At 
length  by  the  promise  of  the  ever-potent  tempta- 
tion, liquor,  I  got  him  to  leave  the  room.  He 
could  scarcely  walk,  though,  now,  and  he  trembled 
so  violently  that  I  was  glad  to  give  him  part  of  a 
bottle  of  brandy  that  I  had  by  me.  He  filled  a 
tumbler  half  full  of  the  spirits,  and  drank  it  off. 
This  put  strength  into  him,  and  for  a  little  he  was 
calm ;  but  as  he  again  and  again  applied  himself 
to  the  bottle,  he  became  drunk,  and  swore  at  me 
for  my  impudence  in  giving  orders  without  his 
sanction.  On  this  I  tried  to  take  the  bottle  from 
him,  but  he  clutched  it  so  firmly  that  I  had  to  let 
it  go ;  whereupon  he  immediately  put  it  to  his  lips 
and  swallowed  the  rest  of  the  liquor  that  was  in  it. 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  85 

After  which  he  gave  a  chuckle,  and  staggered  to 
a  couch,  on  which  he  tumbled,  and  lay  with  his 
eyes  open  for  a  long  while.  At  last  he  fell  asleep, 
but  I  was  too  nervous  to  do  likewise,  and  sat 
watching  him  the  most  of  the  night ;  at  least,  when 
I  awoke  it  was  daylight,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  had  been  asleep  but  a  few  minutes. 

Jackson  was  still  lying  on  the  couch,  and  his  face 
was  calm  and  peaceful  as  he  softly  breathed.  The 
morning,  too,  was  fine,  and  as  I  walked  on  to  the 
veranda  I  saw  the  sea  sparkling  in  the  sunlight,  and 
there  was  not  a  sound  from  it  save  a  far-off  and 
drowsy  murmur.  Not  a  sign  remained  on  its  broad 
surface  of  the  wrath  of  the  day  before.  It  was 
wonderfully  calm.  Lying  here  and  there  on  the 
veranda,  rolled  up  in  their  clothes,  were  the  ser- 
vants of  the  factory,  sleeping  soundly  on  the  hard 
planks. 

Presently,  as  the  sun  rose  in  the  heavens  and 
warmed  the  air,  the  place  began  to  show  signs  of 
life,  and  one  of  the  watch  that  I  had  set  on  the 
beach  came  running  across  the  yard  to  tell  me  that 
the  bodies  had  come  ashore. 

Immediately  upon  hearing  this  I  called  the 
hammock-bearers  together,  and  going  down  to 
the  beach,  I  went  a  considerable  way  along  it  to- 
ward a  dark  spot,  which  I  knew  to  be  a  group  of 
natives.  On  coming  up  to  the  group,  I  found  at 
least  fifty  negroes  collected  round  the  drowned  man 
and  woman,  all  chattering  and  squabbling  among 
themselves,  and  probably  over  the  plunder,  for  I 


86  KING   BEMBA'S   POINT. 

saw  that  the  bodies  had  been  stripped  to  their 
underclothing.  Rushing  into  the  crowd,  with  the 
aid  of  a  stick  I  dispersed  it,  so  far  as  to  make  the 
wretches  stand  back.  The  man,  of  course,  was 
Bransome,  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  that,  although 
he  had  received  a  terrible  blow  on  the  left  temple, 
most  likely  from  the  pointed  stem  of  the  boat  as  it 
had  toppled  over  upon  him,  and  his  face  was  dis- 
torted and  twisted  to  one  side.  The  woman  was 
evidently  English,  young  and  pretty,  although  her 
long  hair,  heavy  and  wet,  was  polluted  by  the  sand 
that  stuck  to  it,  and  her  half-open  eyes  were  filled 
with  the  same.  On  her  lips  there  lingered  a  slight 
smile.  She  was  of  middle  height,  of  slender  figure, 
and  delicately  nurtured,  as  the  small  bare  feet  and 
little  hands  showed.  As  I  looked  at  the  latter  I 
saw  a  wedding-ring  on  her  finger,  and  I  thought, 
"  It  is  Bransome's  wife."  I  tried  to  take  the  ring 
away,  but  it  would  not  come  off  her  finger — which 
I  might  have  known,  because  the  natives  would 
not  have  left  it  there  had  they  been  able  to  remove 
it.  I  then  ordered  the  bearers  to  lay  the  bodies 
in  the  hammocks ;  and  that  done,  our  little  party 
wended  its  way  along  the  shore  homeward,  while 
the  natives  I  had  dispersed  followed  one  after  an- 
other in  African  fashion. 

Arrived  at  the  factory,  I  bade  the  boys  place 
the  bodies  side  by  side  on  a  spare  bed  in  an  empty 
room,  and  then  I  sent  them  to  dig  a  grave  in  the 
little  burial-ground  on  the  Point,  where  two  or 
three  worm-eaten  wooden  crosses  marked  the 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  87 

resting-places  of  former  agents  of  Messrs.  Flint 
Brothers. 

As  quick  interment  was  necessary  in  such  a 
climate,  even  on  that  very  day,  I  went  to  call 
Jackson  in  order  that  he  might  perform  the  duty 
that  was  his — that  of  reading  the  burial  service 
over  the  dead,  and  of  sealing  up  the  desk  and 
effects  of  Mr.  Bransome.  But  Jackson  was  not 
in  the  factory.  I  guessed,  however,  where  he  was ; 
and  sure  enough  I  found  him  in  his  accustomed 
haunt  at  the  end  of  the  Point.  The  moment  he 
saw  me  he  tried  to  hide  himself  among  the  brush- 
wood, but  I  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  spied  him 
as  he  crouched  behind  a  dwarf  palm. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  he  cried,  as  I  ran  up  to  him ; 
"  I  saw  you  come  along  the  beach.  Bury  them, 
bury  them  out  of  sight." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Jackson,"  I  replied,  "  it  is  n't  fair 
to  put  all  the  trouble  on  to  me.  I  am  sure  I  have 
had  enough  of  the  weariness  and  anxiety  of  this 
sad  business.  You  must  take  your  share  of  it.  I 
want  you  to  read  the  service  for  the  dead  over 
them." 

"  No,  no,"  he  almost  shrieked ;  "  bury  them 
quick ;  never  mind  me.  Put  them  out  of  sight." 

"  I  will  not,"  I  said,  resolutely.  "  For  your 
own  sake  you  must,  at  any  rate,  view  the  bodies." 

"They  have  not  been  murdered?"  he  replied. 
But  the  startled  look  with  which  I  received  the 
suggestion  his  words  implied  seemed  to  make  him 
recollect  himself,  for  he  rose  and  took  my  arm  with- 


88  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

out  saying  more.  As  he  did  so,  I  felt  for  the  first 
time  a  sort  of  repugnance  toward  him.  Up  to 
that  moment  my  feeling  had  been  one  of  pity  and 
anxiety  on  his  account,  but  now  I  loathed  him. 
This  he  seemed  instinctively  to  feel,  and  he  clung 
closely  to  me. 

Once  at  the  factory  I  determined  that  there 
should  be  no  more  delay  on  his  part,  and  I  took 
him  to  the  door  of  the  room  where  the  bodies  had 
been  laid,  but  at  it  he  made  a  sudden  halt  and 
would  not  enter.  Covering  his  face  with  his 
hands,  he  trembled  violently  as  I  pushed  the  door 
open  and  advanced  to  the  bedside.  The  room, 
hushed  and  in  semi-darkness;  the  white  sheet, 
whose  surface  showed  too  plainly  the  forms  be- 
neath it ;  and  the  scared,  terrified  face  of  the  man 
who,  with  brain  afire,  stood  watching,  with  star- 
ing eyes,  the  bed,  made  a  scene  I  have  never  for- 
gotten. 

Slowly  I  turned  down  the  upper  part  of  the 
sheet,  and  Jackson,  as  if  fascinated  by  the  act, 
advanced  a  step  or  two  into  the  room,  but  with 
face  averted.  Gradually  he  turned  it  toward  the 
bodies,  and  for  a  moment  his  gaze  rested  upon 
them.  The  next  instant  he  staggered  forward, 
looked  at  the  woman's  face,  panted  for  breath  once 
or  twice,  and  then,  with  uplifted  hands  and  a  wild 
cry  of  "Lucy!"  fell  his  length  upon  the  floor. 
When  I  stooped  over  him  he  was  in  convulsions, 
and  dark  matter  was  oozing  out  of  his  mouth. 
The  climax  had  come.  I  shouted  for  the  servants, 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  89 

and  they  carried  him  to  his  own  room,  and  placed 
him  on  his  own  bed. 

How  I  got  through  that  day  I  hardly  know. 
Alone  I  buried  Bransome  and  his  wife,  and  alone 
I  returned  from  the  hurried  task  to  watch  by  Jack- 
son's bedside.  None  of  the  natives  would  stay 
near  him.  For  two  days  he  lay  unconscious.  At 
the  end  of  that  time  he  seemed  to  have  some  idea 
of  the  outside  world,  for  his  eyes  met  mine  with 
intelligence  in  their  look,  and  on  bending  over  him 
I  heard  him  whisper,  "  Forgive  me ! "  Then  he 
relapsed  into  unconsciousness  again.  Through  the 
long  hours  his  eyes  remained  ever  open  and  rest- 
less ;  he  could  not  eat,  nor  did  he  sleep,  and  I  was 
afraid  he  would  pass  away  through  weakness  with- 
out a  sign,  being  an  old  man.  On  the  third  day 
he  became  delirious,  and  commenced  chattering 
and  talking  to  himself,  and  imagining  that  all  kinds 
of  horrid  shapes  and  creatures  were  around  and 
near  him.  I  had  to  watch  him  narrowly  in  order 
to  prevent  him  stealing  out  of  his  bed,  which  he 
was  ready  to  do  at  any  moment  to  avoid  the  tor- 
tures which  he  fearfully  imagined  awaited  him. 
By  these  signs  I  knew  that  he  was  in  the  middle 
of  an  attack  of  delirium  tremens,  and  I  tried  to 
quiet  him  by  means  of  laudanum,  but  it  had  no 
effect  upon  him.  I  got  him,  however,  to  swallow 
a  little  soup,  which  sustained  him.  My  own  boy 
was  the  only  negro  I  had  been  able  to  induce  to 
stay  in  the  room,  and  he  would  only  remain  in  it 
while  I  was  there. 


90  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

I  had  sent  a  messenger  to  the  nearest  station, 
where  I  remembered  there  was  a  Portuguese  doc- 
tor ;  but  he  had  not  returned  by  the  evening  of  the 
fourth  day.  That  night,  worn  out  with  watching, 
I  had  dozed  off  to  sleep  on  a  chair  placed  by  the 
sick  man's  bed,  when  all  at  once  I  was  awakened 
by  a  loud  report,  and  I  jumped  up  to  find  the 
room  filled  with  smoke.  As  it  cleared  away  I 
saw  that  Jackson  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  with  a  revolver  in  his  hand.  As  I  con- 
fronted him  he  laughed  a  devilish  laugh  and  cocked 
the  weapon,  crying  as  he  did  so,  "It  was  you 
who  tempted  me  with  your  smooth  face  and  un- 
suspicious way,  and  you  shall  die,  though  I  suffer 
doubly  in  hell  for  it.  Hist! "  and  he  stopped  sud- 
denly and  listened.  "  Don't  you  hear  the  break- 
ers? Hark,  how  they  roar!  They  say  they  are 
ready,  always  ready,"  and  staring  in  front  of  him, 
he  advanced,  as  if  following  the  sign  of  an  invisi- 
ble hand,  to  the  door,  unconsciously  placing,  to  my 
infinite  relief,  the  revolver  on  the  top  of  a  chest  of 
drawers  as  he  passed  by  it.  I  did  not  dare  to 
move,  and  he  opened  the  door  and  walked  into 
the  front  room.  Then  I  followed  him.  For  a  little 
he  remained  in  the  room,  glaring  vacantly  about 
him,  and  muttering  to  himself;  but  seeing  the 
outer  door  open  he  made  a  rush  toward  it,  and 
disappeared  into  the  darkness  of  the  night.  Call- 
ing to  the  boy,  I  ran  after  him,  and  easily  came  up 
to  him,  when  he  turned,  and  picking  up  a  heavier 
stone  than  I  thought  he  could  have  lifted,  threw  it 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  91 

at  me.  I  dodged  it  and  closed  with  him.  Once 
in  my  arms  I  found  I  could  hold  him,  and  my  ser- 
vant and  I  carried  him  back  into  the  factory.  We 
placed  him  on  the  floor  of  the  dining-room,  and 
he  was  too  exhausted  to  move  for  a  while.  By 
degrees,  however,  he  recovered  sufficiently  to 
stand ;  and  as  soon  as  he  could  do  so  by  himself, 
with  devilish  cunning  he  made  for  the  lamp,  which 
he  struck,  quick  as  lightning,  with  a  stick  that  had 
been  lying  on  the  table.  In  an  instant  the  great 
round  globe  fell  to  pieces,  but  luckily  the  chimney 
was  not  broken,  and  the  lamp  remained  alight,  and 
before  he  could  strike  another  blow  at  it  I  had 
grappled  with  him  again.  This  time  he  struggled 
violently  for  a  few  moments,  and  seemed  to  think 
that  he  was  dealing  with  Bransome,  for  he  shrieked, 
"  What!  have  you  come  back  from  the  sea?  You 
are  wet !  you  are  wet ! "  and  shuddering,  he  tried 
to  free  himself  from  my  hold ;  and  I,  not  liking  to 
hurt  him,  let  him  go,  taking  care  to  keep  myself 
between  him  and  the  lamp. 

"Back  from  me,  you  villain  of  hell!"  he  cried, 
as  soon  as  he  was  free.  "What  have  you  done 
with  her?  what  have  you  done  with  her?  "  And 
then,  in  a  tone  of  weird  and  pathetic  sorrow, 
"Where  is  my  little  one  that  I  loved?  I  have 
sought  her  many  a  year ;  oh,  why  did  she  forsake 
me?  Aha,  Sooka!  we  were  right  to  send  him  to 
the  hell  whence  he  came— the  lying,  false-hearted 
scoundrel,  to  steal  away  my  white  dove!" 

After  which  he  drew  from  his  finger  a  solid  gold 


92  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

ring  which  he  always  wore,  and  threw  it  from  him, 
saying,  with  a  wild  laugh,  "  There !  that 's  for  any 
one  that  likes  it;  I  'm  a  dead  man."  He  then 
staggered  toward  his  own  room,  and  I,  remember- 
ing the  loaded  revolver  which  still  lay  on  the  chest 
of  drawers,  tried  to  intercept  him.  In  his  rage,  for 
I  verily  believe  that  he  also  remembered  that  the 
weapon  was  there,  he  spat  in  my  face,  and  struck 
me  with  all  his  force  between  the  eyes ;  but  I  stuck 
to  him,  and  with  the  help  of  the  boy,  who  had  been 
all  this  time  in  hiding,  but  who  came  forward  at 
my  call,  I  laid  him  for  the  last  time  upon  his  bed. 
There  he  lay  exhausted  for  the  remainder  of  the 
night ;  but  there  was  no  rest  for  me ;  I  felt  that  I 
had  to  watch  him  now  for  my  own  safety. 

Toward  morning,  however,  his  breathing  be- 
came, all  at  once,  very  heavy  and  slow,  and  I  bent 
over  him  in  alarm.  As  I  did  so,  I  heard  him  sigh 
faintly,  "  Lucy ! "  and  at  that  moment  the  native 
boy  softly  placed  something  upon  the  bed.  I  took 
it  up.  It  was  the  ring  the  sick  man  had  thrown 
away  in  the  night,  and  as  I  looked  at  it  I  saw 
"  James,  from  Lucy  "  engraved  on  its  inside  sur- 
face, and  I  knew  that  the  dead  woman  was  his 
wife. 

As  the  first  faint  streaks  of  dawn  stole  into  the 
room,  the  slow-drawn  breathing  of  the  dying  man 
ceased.  I  listened — it  came  again — once — twice 
— and  then  all  was  silence.  He  was  dead,  and  I 
realised  in  the  sudden  stillness  that  had  come  upon 
the  room  that  I  was  alone.  Yet  he  had  passed 


KING  BEMBA'S  POINT.  93 

away  so  quietly  after  his  fitful  fever  that  I  could 
not  bring  myself  to  believe  that  he  was  really 
gone,  and  I  stood  looking  at  the  body,  fearing  to 
convince  myself  of  the  truth  by  touching  it. 

So  entranced  was  I  by  that  feeling  of  awe  which 
comes  to  almost  every  one  in  the  presence  of  death, 
that  I  did  not  hear  the  shouting  of  the  hammock- 
boy  outside,  or  the  footsteps  of  a  white  man  com- 
ing into  the  room ;  and  not  until  he  touched  me 
on  the  shoulder  did  I  turn  and  recognise  the  sallow 
face  of  the  Portuguese  doctor  whom  I  had  sent  for, 
and  who  had  thus  arrived  too  late.  However,  he 
served  to  help  me  to  bury  the  mortal  part  of  Jack- 
son in  the  little  graveyard  beside  the  body  of  his 
wife  and  that  of  the  man  who  had  come  between 
them  when  alive.  And  such  was  without  doubt  the 
fact ;  for  when  the  doctor  had  gone,  and  I  was 
alone  again,  I  collected  and  made  an  inventory  of 
the  dead  men's  effects,  and  in  Jackson's  desk  I 
found  his  diary,  or,  as  he  himself  would  have 
called  it,  his  log ;  and  in  that  log  was  noted,  on  the 
very  day  that  Bransome  had  arrived  on  the  Point, 
his  suspicion  of  the  man,  and  later  on  his  convic- 
tion that  Bransome  was  indeed  he  who  had  injured 
him. 

Sooka  was  never  found;  but  when  the  mail- 
steamer  returned  from  the  south  coast,  I  discovered 
that  the  younger  patrao  had  made  his  crew  row 
away  suddenly  from  the  steamer's  side,  while  Mr. 
Bransome  had  been  engaged  below,  and  was  out 
of  sight.  So  it  was  evident  that  the  pair  had  been 


94  KING  BEMBA'S  POINT. 

in  league  together  to  insure  Sooka  his  revenge. 
What  share  Jackson  had  had  in  the  murder  of  his 
enemy  I  did  not  care  to  think  of,  but  feared  the 
worst. 

For  myself,  I  had  to  remain  on  the  Point  for 
many  months,  until  the  factory  was  finally  closed 
— for  no  purchaser  was  ever  found  for  it;  and 
doubtless,  by  this  time,  the  buildings  are  in  ruins, 
and  long  grass  hides  the  graves  of  those  who  sleep 
upon  King  Bemba's  Point. 


GHAMBA 


BY 

WILLIAM   CHARLES    SCULLY 


GHAMBA 

BY   WILLIAM    CHARLES    SCULLY 

The  darksome  cave  they  enter,  where  they  find 
That  cursed  man,  low  sitting  on  the  ground, 
Musing  full  sadly  in  his  sullen  mind. 

The  Faerie  Queene. 

WHEN  Corporal  Francis  Dollond  and  Trooper 
James  Franks,  of  the  Natal  Mounted  Police, 
overstayed  their  ten  days'  leave  of  absence  from 
the  camp  on  the  Upper  Tugela,  in  the  early  part 
of  1883,  everybody  was  much  surprised;  they  be- 
ing two  of  the  best  conducted  and  most  methodi- 
cal men  in  the  force.  But  the  weeks  and  then  the 
months  went  by  without  anything  whatever  being 
heard  of  them,  so  they  were  officially  recorded  as 
deserters.  Nevertheless  none  of  their  comrades 
really  believed  that  these  men  had  deserted ;  each 
one  felt  there  was  something  mysterious  about  the 
circumstance  of  their  disappearance.  They  had 
applied  for  leave  for  the  alleged  purpose  of  visit- 
ing Pietermaritzburg.  They  started  on  foot,  stat- 
ing their  intention  of  walking  to  Estcourt,  hiring 
horses  from  natives  there,  and  proceeding  on 


98  GHAMBA. 

horseback.  They  had  evidently  never  reached 
Estcourt,  as  nothing  could  be  heard  of  them  at 
that  village.  They  were  both  young  men— colo- 
nists by  birth.  Dollond  had  an  especially  youthful 
appearance.  Franks  was  older.  He  had  joined 
the  force  later  in  life.  He  and  Dollond,  who  had 
only  very  recently  before  his  disappearance  been 
promoted,  were  chums. 

Some  months  later  in  the  same  year,  when 
Troopers  George  Langley  and  Hiram  Whitson 
also  applied  for  ten  days'  leave  of  absence, — like- 
wise to  proceed  to  Pietermaritzburg, — the  leave 
was  granted ;  but  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  de- 
tachment laughingly  remarked  that  he  hoped  they 
were  not  going  to  follow  Dollond  and  Franks. 

Now,  neither  Langley  nor  Whitson  had  the  re- 
motest idea  of  visiting  Pietermaritzburg.  It  is 
necessary,  of  course,  for  the  reader  to  know  where 
they  did  intend  going  to,  and  how  the  intention 
arose;  but  before  doing  this  we  must  deal  with 
some  antecedent  circumstances. 

Langley  was  most  certainly  the  most  boyish- 
looking  man  in  the  force.  He  had  a  perfectly 
smooth  face,  ruddy  complexion,  and  fair  hair.  He 
was  of  middle  height,  and  was  rather  inclined  to 
Stoutness.  He  was  so  fond  of  talking  that  his 
comrades  nicknamed  him  "  Magpie."  A  colonist 
by  birth,  he  could  speak  the  Kaffir  language  like  a 
native. 

Whitson  was  a  sallow-faced,  spare-built  man  of 
short  stature,  with  dark-brown  beard  and  hair,  and 


GHAMBA.  99 

piercing  black  eyes.  His  age  was  about  forty. 
He  had  a  wiry  and  terrier-like  appearance.  A 
"  down-East "  Yankee,  he  had  spent  some  years  in 
Mexico,  and  then  drifted  to  South  Africa  during 
the  war  period,  which,  it  will  be  remembered,  lasted 
from  1877  to  1882.  He  had  served  in  the  Zulu 
war  as  a  non-commissioned  officer  in  one  of  the 
irregular  cavalry  corps,  with  some  credit.  The 
fact  of  his  being  a  man  of  extremely  few  words 
was  enough  to  account  for  the  friendship  which 
existed  between  him  and  the  garrulous  Langley. 
Whitson  was  known  to  be  a  dead  shot  with  the 
revolver. 

This  is  how  they  came  to  apply  for  leave :  One 
day  Langley  was  strolling  about  just  outside  the 
lines,  looking  for  somebody  to  talk  to,  when  he 
noticed  an  apparently  very  old  native  man  sitting 
on  an  ant-heap  and  regarding  him  somewhat  in- 
tently. This  old  native  had  been  several  times  seen 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp,  but  he  never  seemed  to 
speak  to  any  one,  and  he  looked  so  harmless  that 
the  police  did  not  even  trouble  to  ask  him  for  the 
written  pass  which  all  natives  are  obliged  by  law 
to  carry  when  they  move  about  the  country.  The 
old  man  saluted  Langley  and  asked  in  his  own 
language  for  a  pipeful  of  tobacco.  Langley  al- 
ways carried  some  loose  leaves  broken  up  in  his 
pocket,  so  he  at  once  pulled  some  of  these  out  and 
half  filled  the  claw-like  hand  outstretched  to  re- 
ceive them.  The  old  native  was  voluble  in  his 
thanks.  There  was  a  large  ant-heap  close  to  the 


1 00  GHAMBA. 

one  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  and  on  which 
he  reseated  himself  while  filling  his  pipe.  Against 
this  Langley  leaned  and  took  a  good  look  at  his 
companion.  The  man  had  a  most  extraordinary 
face.  His  lower  jaw  and  cheek-bones  were  largely 
developed,  but  Langley  hardly  noticed  this,  so 
struck  was  he  with  the  strange  formation  of  the 
upper  jaw.  That  portion  of  the  superior  maxillary 
bone  which  lies  between  the  sockets  of  the  eye- 
teeth  protruded,  with  the  sockets,  to  a  remarkable 
degree,  and  instead  of  being  curved  appeared  to 
be  quite  straight.  The  incisor  teeth  were  very 
large  and  white,  but  it  was  the  development  of  the 
eye-teeth  that  was  most  startling.  These,  besides 
being  very  massive,  were  produced  below  the  level 
of  the  incisors  to  a  depth  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
inch.  They  distinctly  suggested  to  Langley  the 
tusks  of  a  baboon. 

As  is  not  very  unusual  with  natives,  the  man 
was  perfectly  bald.  His  back  was  bent,  and  his 
limbs  were  somewhat  shrunken,  but  he  did  not  ap- 
pear in  the  least  degree  decrepit.  His  eyelids  were 
very  red,  and  his  eyes,  though  dim,  had  a  deep  and 
intent  look.  Ugly  as  was  the  man — or  perhaps  by 
virtue  of  his  ugliness — he  exercised  a  strange  fas- 
cination over  Langley. 

The  old  man,  whose  name  turned  out  to  be 
Ghamba,  proved  himself  a  talker  after  Langley's 
own  heart.  They  discussed  all  sorts  of  things. 
Ghamba  startled  his  hearer  by  his  breadth  of  ex- 
perience and  his  shrewdness,  He  said  he  was  a 


GHAMBA.  IOI 

"  Hlubi "  Kaffir  from  Qumbu,  in  the  territory  of 
Griqualand  East,  but  that  he  had  for  some  time 
past  been  living  in  Basutoland,  which  is  situated 
just  behind  the  frowning  wall  of  the  Drakensberg, 
to  the  southwest  of  where  they  were  speaking,  and 
not  twenty  miles  distant. 

They  talked  until  it  was  time  for  Langley  to  re- 
turn to  camp.  He  was  so  pleased  at  the  entertain- 
ment afforded  by  Ghamba  that  all  the  tobacco  he 
had  with  him  found  its  way  into  the  claw-like  hand 
of  that  strange-looking  man  of  many  experiences 
and  quaint  ideas.  So  Langley  asked  him  to  come 
to  the  ant-heap  again  on  the  following  day,  and 
have  another  talk  at  the  same  hour.  This  Ghamba, 
with  a  wide  and  prolonged  exposure  of  his  teeth, 
readily  agreed  to  do. 

Langley  was  extremely  voluble  to  Whitson  that 
night  over  his  new  acquaintance.  Whitson  listened 
with  his  usual  impassiveness,  and  then  asked  Lang- 
ley  how  it  was  that  "  an  old  loafing  nigger,"  as  he 
expressed  it,  had  impressed  him  so  remarkably. 
Langley  replied  that  he  did  not  quite  know,  but 
he  thought  the  effect  was  largely  due  to  the  man's 
teeth.  But  all  the  same  he  was  "  a  very  entertain- 
ing old  buffer." 

Next  afternoon  Langley  was  so  impatient  to  re- 
sume conversation  with  his  new  friend  that  he  re- 
paired to  the  ant-heap  quite  half  an  hour  before 
the  appointed  time.  He  had  not,  however,  long 
to  wait,  as  Ghamba  soon  appeared,  emerging  from 
a  donga  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  away. 


102  GHAMBA. 

Langley  was  more  impressed  than  ever.  Ghamba 
told  him  all  about  the  Basutos,  among  whom  he 
had  lived ;  about  the  old  days  in  Natal,  before  even 
the  Dutch  occupation,  when  Tshaka's  impis  wiped 
whole  tribes  out  of  existence;  of  the  recent  wars 
in  Zululand  and  the  Cape  Colony,  and  as  to  the 
probability  of  future  disturbances.  Charmed  as 
was  Langley  by  the  old  man's  conversation,  he  felt 
that  on  this  occasion  there  was  a  little  too  much  of 
it ;  that  Ghamba  was  not  nearly  so  good  a  listener 
as  he  had  been  on  the  previous  day ;  so  when  the 
latter  at  length  put  a  question  to  him,  thus  afford- 
ing an  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  his  own  pent- 
up  loquacity,  Langley  felt  elated,  more  especially 
as  several  inquiries  were  grouped  together  in  the 
one  asking.  Ghamba  asked  whether  anything  had 
been  heard  of  Umhlonhlo;  whether  the  capture 
of  that  fugitive  rebel  was  considered  likely,  and 
whether  it  was  true  that  a  reward  of  five  hundred 
pounds  had  been  offered  by  the  government  for 
his  capture,  dead  or  alive. 

Umhlonhlo,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the 
Pondomise  chief  who  rebelled  in  1880,  treacher- 
ously murdered  Mr.  Hope,  the  magistrate  of 
Qumbu,  and  his  two  companions,  and  who  has 
since  been  an  outlaw  with  a  price  on  his  head. 

Langley  replied  to  the  effect  that  it  was  quite 
true  such  a  reward  had  been  offered ;  that  nothing 
as  yet  had  been  ascertained  as  to  Umhlonhlo's 
whereabouts,  but  that  the  government  believed 
him  to  be  in  Pondoland ;  that  he  was  sure  to  be 


GHAMBA.  103 

captured  eventually ;  that  he,  Langley,  only  wished 
he  knew  where  Umhlonhlo  was,  so  as  to  have  the 
chance  of  making  five  hundred  pounds  with  which 
to  buy  a  certain  nice  little  farm  he  knew  of;  and 
that  should  he  ever  succeed  in  obtaining  the  re- 
ward, and  consequently  in  taking  his  discharge 
and  purchasing  the  farm,  he  would  be  jolly  glad 
if  old  Ghamba  would  come  and  live  with  him. 
This  is  only  some  of  what  he  said ;  when  Langley's 
tongue  got  into  motion,  he  seemed  to  have  some 
difficulty  in  stopping  it. 

However,  he  paused  at  last,  and  then  Ghamba, 
looking  very  intently  at  him,  said : 

"  Look  here,  can  you  keep  a  secret?  " 

Here  was  a  mystery. 

"Rather!"  said  Langley. 

"  Will  you  swear  by  the  name  of  God  that  you 
will  not  reveal  what  I  have  to  tell  you  ?  " 

Langley  swore. 

Ghamba  drew  near  until  his  teeth  were  within 
a  few  inches  of  Langley's  cheek,  and  said  in  a 
whisper : 

"  I  know  where  Umhlonhlo  is." 

Langley  started,  and  said  in  an  awed  voice : 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  Ghamba;  "perhaps  I  will 
tell  you,  and  perhaps  I  won't.  I  like  you;  you 
have  given  me  tobacco,  and  you  are  not  too  proud 
to  come  and  talk  to  a  poor  old  man.  Now,  you 
say  you  would  like  to  make  five  hundred  pounds 
and  buy  a  farm?  " 


i64  GHAMBA. 

"Rather!" 

"  And  that  you  would  let  me  go  and  live  on  the 
farm  with  you  and  end  my  days  in  peace?  " 

"  I  would,  gladly." 

"  Well  then,  if  I  take  you  to  where  Umhlonhlo 
is,  and  you  kill  him  and  get  the  money,  will  you 
give  me  twenty-five  pounds,  and  let  me  keep  a  few 
goats,  and  grow  a  few  mealies  on  your  land?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  would.  But  how  could  one 
man  take  or  kill  Umhlonhlo?  They  say  he  is 
well  armed  and  that  he  has  a  lot  of  followers  with 
him." 

"  Umhlonhlo,"  said  Ghamba,  glancing  anxiously 
round  as  if  he  feared  the  very  ant-heaps  were  listen- 
ing, "is  hiding  in  a  cave  in  the  mountains,  not 
three  days'  walk  from  here.  He  has  not  got  a 
single  man  with  him,  because  he  fears  being  given 
up.  He  is  really  in  hiding  from  his  own  followers 
now.  My  sister  is  one  of  his  wives,  and  that  is  how 
I  know  all  about  it.  I  passed  the  cave  where  he 
lives  four  nights  ago,  and  saw  him  sitting  by  the 
fire.  He  has  only  a  few  women  with  him." 

"  And  how  do  you  think  I  should  take  him?  " 

"Take  him?  you  should  kill  him.  I  will  guide 
you  to  the  cave  by  night,  and  then  you  can  shoot 
him  as  he  sits  by  the  fire." 

Langley,  although  no  coward,  was  not  particu- 
larly brave.  He  did  not  much  relish  the  idea  of 
alone  tackling  the  redoubtable  Umhlonhlo,  a  sav- 
age of  muscle,  who  was  reported  to  be  always 
armed  to  the  teeth.  Moreover,  he  had  no  gun, 


GHAMBA.  105 

and  was  but  an  indifferent  shot  with  a  revolver. 
So  he  thought  over  the  matter  for  a  few  moments 
and  then  said : 

"  Look  here,  Ghamba ;  I  do  not  care  to  tackle 
this  job  alone,  but  if  I  can  take  another  man  with 
me,  I  am  on." 

"  Then  you  will  only  get  half  of  the  five  hundred 
pounds,  and  will  not  be  able  to  buy  the  farm.  You 
need  not  be  afraid ;  you  can  shoot  him  without  his 
seeing  you." 

"  No,"  said  Langley,  after  a  pause ;  "  I  will  not 
go  alone,  but  if  you  will  let  me  take  another  man 
with  me,  it  can  be  managed.  It  will  make  no 
difference  to  you;  you  will  get  your  twenty-five 
pounds." 

"  And  how  about  my  going  to  live  on  the  farm 
with  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  could  not  buy  the  farm  for  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pounds.  Come,  we  will  give  you 
fifty  pounds  instead  of  twenty-five." 

Ghamba  thought  for  a  while  and  then  said : 

"  Very  well,  I  consent.  But  there  need  be  only 
one  other  man,  and  you  will  write  down  on  a 
piece  of  paper  that  you  will  give  me  the  fifty 
pounds.  When  can  we  start?" 

"  I  must  speak  to  the  other  man,  and  then  we 
will  apply  for  leave.  We  had  better  start  soon,  or 
else  Umhlonhlo  may  have  gone  to  some  other  place 
of  hiding." 

"  Yes,  we  must  lose  no  time." 

"All  right!      Meet  me  here  to-morrow  and  I 


106  GHAMBA. 

will  bring  my  friend.  We  will  then  settle  all 
about  it." 

"  You  must  not  mention  this  matter  to  any  one 
else,  and  you  must  make  your  friend  promise  to 
keep  the  secret." 

"Oh,  that  's  all  right!"  said  Langley.  "Meet 
me  here  to-morrow,  just  after  dinner." 

Langley  went  back  to  camp,  Ghamba  looking 
after  his  retreating  figure  with  a  smile  that  revealed 
his  teeth  in  a  very  striking  manner.  Langley  was 
intensely  excited,  and  exacted  (quite  unnecessarily) 
the  most  solemn  promises  from  Whitson  not  to 
divulge  the  great  secret  which  he  confided  to  him. 
Whitson  agreed  at  once  to  join  in  the  enterprise, 
which  was  one  after  his  own  heart. 

Next  day  the  three  met  at  the  big  ant-heap,  and 
Whitson  was  very  much  impressed  by  Ghamba's 
teeth.  He  told  Langley  afterward  that  they  re- 
minded him  of  a  picture  of  the  devil  which  he  had 
seen  in  a  copy  of  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  The 
old  man's  story  appeared,  however,  consistent 
enough,  in  spite  of  his  peculiar  dentition. 

So,  after  a  short  conversation,  Langley  and 
Whitson  returned  to  camp,  having  made  an  ap- 
pointment to  meet  Ghamba  again  on  the  following 
morning  at  sunrise,  so  as  to  finally  arrange  as  to 
time  of  starting,  etc.  They  went  at  once  to  the 
officer  in  charge  of  the  detachment  and  applied  for 
ten  days'  leave  of  absence  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
ceeding to  Pietermaritzburg,  which  was  at  once 
granted. 


GHAMBA.  107 

Next  morning  they  met  Ghamba  again,  and 
agreed  to  start  on  their  expedition  that  evening. 
He  explained  that  they  must  do  all  their  travelling 
by  night,  and  lie  by  during  the  day ;  because  it 
would  never  do  for  him,  Ghamba,  to  run  the  risk 
of  being  recognised  by  persons  whom  they  might 
meet.  For  the  sake  of  his  Hlubi  relations  who 
were  living  among  the  Pondomise  at  Qumbu,  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  not  appear 
in  the  transaction  at  all.  Were  it  ever  to  be  even 
suspected  that  he  had  betrayed  the  chief,  not  alone 
would  he  be  certainly  killed,  but  all  his  relations 
would  be  shunned  by  the  other  natives.  He  was 
an  old  man,  so  for  him,  personally,  nothing  mat- 
tered very  much,  but  a  man  is  bound  to  consider 
the  interests  of  his  family.  Travelling  only  by 
night,  and  lying  still  and  hidden  during  the  day, 
were  therefore  absolutely  necessary  stipulations, 
and  Langley  and  Whitson  agreed  to  them  as  in- 
telligible and  reasonable.  All  being  settled,  the 
latter  started  for  the  camp,  Ghamba  baring  his 
teeth  excessively  as  they  walked  away. 

At  dusk  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  Lang- 
ley  and  Whitson  met  Ghamba  once  more  at  the 
large  ant-heap,  and  the  three  at  once  proceeded  on 
their  course.  The  only  arms  taken  were  revolvers 
of  the  government  regulation  pattern  (breech- 
loading  central  fire).  They  carried  provisions  cal- 
culated to  last  eight  days,  but  took  no  blankets 
on  account  of  having  to  travel  at  night.  When 


I08  GHAMBA. 

Ghamba  volunteered  to  relieve  them  of  a  consid- 
erable share  of  their  respective  loads,  Langley  and 
Whitson  were  filled  with  grateful  surprise. 

The  plan  was  as  follows :  Whitson  was  to  shoot 
Umhlonhlo,  and  then  remain  in  the  cave  while 
Langley  returned  to  the  camp  to  report  what  had 
been  done,  and  cause  persons  who  could  identify 
the  body  to  be  sent  for.  They  seem  to  have  had 
no  scruples  as  to  the  deed  they  meant  to  do ;  cer- 
tainly Umhlonhlo  deserved  no  more  mercy  than  a 
beast  of  prey.  Nor  does  it  seem  to  have  struck  them 
that  possibly  they  might  shoot  the  wrong  man. 
But  there  was  an  air  of  conviction  about  the 
manner  in  which  Ghamba  showed  his  teeth  when 
asked  whether  he  was  positive  as  to  the  identity  of 
the  man  in  the  cave,  that  would  have  dissipated  the 
doubts  of  most  men.  Besides  this,  he  drew  out 
the  written  undertaking  which  they  had  delivered 
to  him,  and  said,  with  a  profoundly  businesslike 
look: 

"  Do  I  not  want  the  money?  Should  I  take  all 
this  trouble  if  I  did  not  know  what  I  were  doing?  " 

They  walked  all  night,  only  resting  once  or  twice 
for  a  few  minutes.  It  was  found  that  Ghamba,  in 
spite  of  his  age,  was  an  extremely  good  walker; 
and  when  they  halted  at  daylight,  Langley  was  so 
done  up  that  he  could  not  have  held  out  for  an- 
other half-hour.  Whitson,  the  wiry,  had  not  yet 
felt  the  least  fatigue. 

This  march  had  taken  them  to  the  very  foot  of 
the  Drakensberg  range,  and  they  rested  in  a  valley 


GHAMBA.  109 

between  two  of  its  main  spurs.  Here  they  re- 
mained all  day,  comfortably  located  in  a  sheltered 
nook  where  there  was  plenty  of  dry  grass.  Their 
resting-place  was  encircled  by  immense  rocks. 
Although  the  surrounding  country  was  desolate  to 
a  degree,  and  neither  a  human  being  nor  an  animal 
was  to  be  seen,  Ghamba  would  not  hear  of  their 
lighting  a  fire  nor  leaving  the  spot  where  they 
rested.  The  weather  was  clear,  and  neither  too 
warm  nor  too  cold.  They  slept  at  intervals  during 
the  day,  and  at  evening  felt  quite  recovered  from 
their  fatigue. 

At  nightfall  they  again  started,  their  course  lead- 
ing steeply  up  the  gorge  in  which  they  had  rested. 
Although  the  pathway  became  more  and  more  in- 
distinct, Ghamba  appeared  never  to  be  at  a  loss. 
Langley  several  times  shuddered,  when  they  passed 
by  the  very  edge  of  some  immense  precipice,  or 
clambered  along  some  steep  mountain-side,  where 
a  false  step  would  have  meant  destruction.  He 
began  to  show  signs  of  fatigue  soon  after  mid- 
night, so  at  Ghamba's  suggestion  a  considerable 
portion  of  his  load  was  transferred  to  the  shoul- 
ders of  Whitson,  who  seemed  to  be  as  tireless  as 
Ghamba  himself. 

At  daybreak  they  halted  in  the  depths  of  an- 
other tremendous  gorge  with  precipitous  sides. 
The  scenery  in  this  particular  area  of  the  Drakens- 
berg  range,  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Mont  aux 
Sources,  is  indescribably  grand  and  impressive, 
and  is  quite  unlike  anything  else  in  South  Africa. 


110  GHAMBA. 

Enormous  and  fantastically  shaped  mountains  are 
here  huddled  together  indiscriminately,  and  be- 
tween them  wind  and  double  deep  gloomy  gorges, 
along  the  bottoms  of  which  mighty  boulders  are 
thickly  strewn.  On  dizzy  ledge  and  steep  slope 
dense  thickets  of  wild  bamboo  grow,  and  a  few 
stunted  trees  fill  some  of  the  less  deep  clefts,  wher- 
ever the  sunshine  can  penetrate.  Splendid  as  is 
the  scenery,  its  gloom,  its  stillness,  its  naked  crags 
and  peaks,  its  dark  depths  that  seem  to  cleave  to 
the  very  vitals  of  the  earth,  become  so  oppressive 
that,  after  a  few  days  spent  among  them,  the  trav- 
eller is  filled  with  repulsion  and  almost  horror.  Few 
living  things  have  their  home  there.  You  might 
meet  an  occasional  "  klipspringer  "  (an  antelope, 
in  habits  and  appearance  somewhat  like  the 
chamois),  a  wandering  troop  of  baboons,  and  now 
and  then  a  herd  of  eland  in  the  more  grassy  areas. 
There  are  said  to  be  a  few  Bushmen  still  haunting 
the  caves,  but  they  are  seldom  or  never  seen. 

In  the  afternoon  the  sun  shone  into  the  gorge  in 
which  the  travellers  were  resting,  and  for  a  few 
hours  the  heat  was  very  oppressive.  Whitson  ex- 
amined his  revolver,  removing  the  cartridges  and 
replacing  them  by  others.  He  then  lay  down  to 
sleep,  asking  Langley  to  remain  awake  and  keep 
a  lookout.  He  had  a  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness 
which  he  could  not  overcome.  Langley  promised 
to  keep  awake,  but  he  was  too  tired  to  do  so.  He 
sat  with  his  back  against  a  rock,  and,  after  some 
futile  efforts  to  keep  his  eyes  open,  fell  fast  asleep. 


GHAMBA.  Ill 

By-and-by  Ghamba  woke  him  gently,  and,  point- 
ing to  Whitson,  whose  revolver  lay  in  the  leather 
case  close  to  his  hand,  whispered : 

"  Did  he  not  tell  you  to  keep  awake?  " 

Langley  was  grateful  for  this  evidence  of  con- 
sideration, but  he  could  not  quite  make  out  how 
Ghamba  had  been  able  to  understand  what  Whit- 
son  had  said.  However,  when  the  latter  awoke, 
Langley  said  nothing  to  him  about  having  dis- 
obeyed instructions. 

Ghamba  said  that  about  two  hours'  walk  would 
now  bring  them  to  Umhlonhlo's  cave,  so  they 
started  off  briskly  at  dusk.  Their  course  now  led 
for  some  distance  along  a  mountain  ledge  covered 
with  wild  bamboo,  through  which  the  pathway 
wound.  Then  they  crossed  a  steep  saddle  between 
two  enormous  peaks,  after  which  they  plunged  into 
another  deep  and  winding  gorge.  This  they  fol- 
lowed until  they  reached  a  part  where  it  was  so 
narrow  that  the  sides  seemed  almost  to  touch  over 
their  heads.  Beyond  the  cliffs  fell  apart,  and  then 
apparently  curved  toward  each  other  again,  thus 
forming  an  immense  amphitheatre.  At  the  en- 
trance to  this  Ghamba  stopped,  and  said  in  a 
whisper  that  they  were  now  close  to  the  cave. 

They  now  held  a  consultation,  in  terms  of  which 
it  was  decided  that  Ghamba  should  go  forward  and 
reconnoitre.  So  Whitson  and  Langley  sat  down 
close  together  and  waited,  conversing  in  low  tones. 

Whitson  felt  very  uneasy,  but  Langley  tried  to 
argue  him  out  of  his  fears.  The  more  Whitson  saw 


112  GHAMBA. 

of  Ghamba,  the  more  he  disliked  and  distrusted 
him  and  his  teeth.  The  instinct  which  detects 
danger  in  the  absence  of  any  apparent  evidence 
of  its  existence  is  a  faculty  developed  in  some  men 
by  an  adventurous  life.  This  faculty  Whitson  pos- 
sessed in  a  high  degree. 

"  Did  you  keep  awake  all  the  time  I  slept  this 
afternoon?  "  he  asked. 

Langley  feared  Whitson  and  felt  inclined  to  lie, 
but  something  impelled  him,  almost  against  his 
will,  to  speak  the  truth  now. 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  I  slept  for  a  few  minutes." 

Whitson  drew  his  revolver  and  opened  the 
breech. 

"  By  God! "  he  said,  "  the  cartridges  are  gone! " 

Langley  took  his  weapon  out  of  the  leather  case 
and  opened  it.  He  found  the  cartridges  were 
there  right  enough. 

"  Have  you  any  spare  cartridges? "  asked 
Whitson. 

Whitson  had  already  loaded  his  revolver  with  the 
five  cartridges  which  he  had  removed  in  the  after- 
noon, but  he  again  took  these  out  and  replaced 
them  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  then  he  reloaded 
with  some  which  Langley  passed  over  to  him  with 
a  trembling  hand. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "  we 
are  in  a  trap  of  some  kind.  When  that  old 
scoundrel  comes  back,  do  not  let  him  know  that 
we  have  found  out  anything.  We  will  walk  on  with 
him  for  a  short  distance,  at  all  events,  and  then  be 


GHAMBA.  113 

guided  by  circumstances.  Stand  by  when  you  see 
me  collar  him,  and  slip  a  sack  over  his  head." 

"  Can  we  not  go  back  now?  "  said  Langley. 

"  Certainly  not ;  we  would  never  find  our  way  at 
night.  I  guess  we  must  see  this  circus  out.  If 
you  have  to  shoot,  aim  low." 

In  a  few  minutes  Ghamba  returned. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said.  "  He  is  sitting  at  the  fire 
in  front  of  the  cave.  I  have  just  seen  him." 

"Where  is  the  cave?  "  asked  Whitson.  "Is  it 
far  from  here?  " 

"We  will  reach  it  very  soon;  you  can  see  the 
light  of  the  fire  from  a  few  paces  ahead." 

They  walked  on  for  about  fifty  yards,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  over  a  rocky  slope  to  their  left,  and 
at  the  foot  of  a  crag  about  three  hundred  yards 
away,  could  be  seen  the  bright  and  fitful  glow  from 
a  fire  which  was  hidden  from  their  view  by  a  low 
ridge  of  piled-up  rocks. 

Whitson  stood  still  and  questioned  Ghamba : 

"  Now  tell  me,"  he  asked,  through  Langley  as 
interpreter,  "how  we  are  to  approach." 

"  The  pathway  leads  up  on  the  left  side,"  re- 
plied Ghamba.  "We  will  walk  close  up  to  the 
crag,  where  there  is  a  narrow  passage  between  it 
and  that  big  black  rock  which  you  see  against  the 
light.  You  two  can  lead,  and  I  will  be  close  be- 
hind. I  have  just  seen  him.  He  is  sitting  at 
the  fire,  eating,  and  only  the  women  are  with 
him." 

The  last  words  were  hardly  out  of  the  speaker's 


114  GHAMBA. 

mouth  before  Whitson  had  seized  him  by  the  throat 
with  a  vice-like  grasp. 

"  Seize  his  hands  and  hold  them,"  he  hissed  to 
Langley. 

Ghamba  struggled  desperately,  but  could  not  re- 
lease himself.  Whitson  compressed  his  throat  until 
he  became  unconscious,  and  then  gagged  him  with 
a  pocket-handkerchief.  Ghamba's  hands  were  then 
tied  tightly  behind  his  back  with  another  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  his  feet  were  firmly  secured  with 
a  belt.  An  empty  sack  (from  which  they  had  re- 
moved their  provisions)  was  then  drawn  over  his 
head  and  shoulders,  and  secured  round  the  waist. 

"  Come  on  now,  quickly,"  whispered  Whitson, 
and  he  and  Langley  started  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  fire,  after  first  taking  off  their  boots. 

They  did  not  approach  by  the  course  which 
Ghamba  had  indicated,  but  made  their  way 
quietly  up  the  slope,  straight  against  the  face  of 
the  crag.  They  reached  the  heap  of  rocks,  and 
crept  in  among  them  by  means  of  another  narrow 
passage,  clore  to  the  inner  end  of  which  the  fire 
was ;  and  this  is  what  they  saw  through  the  twigs 
of  a  scrubby  bush  which  effectually  concealed 
them: 

A  large  cave  opened  into  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  just  before  the  mouth  was  an  open  space 
about  twenty  yards  in  diameter,  surrounded  on  all 
sides,  except  that  of  the  mountain  itself,  by  a  wall 
of  loosely  piled  rocks,  through  which  passages  led 
out  in  different  directions.  Just  in  front  of  the 


GHAMBA.  115 

cave  burned  a  bright  fire,  around  which  crouched 
four  most  hideous  and  filthy-looking  old  hags,  and 
against  which  were  propped  several  large  earthen- 
ware pots  of  native  make,  full  of  water.  Standing 
behind  rocks,  one  at  each  side  of  the  inner  entrance 
to  the  passage,  which  was  evidently  that  communi- 
cating with  the  pathway  indicated  by  Ghamba  as 
the  one  they  were  to  approach  by,  were  two  pow- 
erful-looking men,  stark  naked,  and  as  black  as 
ebony,  their  skins  shining  in  the  light  of  the  fire. 
Each  man  held  a  coiled  thong  in  his  hands,  after 
the  manner  of  a  sailor  about  to  heave  a  line. 
While  they  were  looking,  a  woman,  somewhat 
younger  in  appearance  than  any  of  those  who  sat 
by  the  fire,  came  out  of  the  cave  carrying  a  strong 
club  about  three  feet  long.  She  crouched  down 
close  to  the  man  standing  on  the  left-hand  side  of 
the  passage,  who,  as  well  as  his  companion,  stood 
as  still  as  a  marble  statue,  and  in  an  expectant 
attitude. 

Whitson  and  Langley,  with  their  revolvers 
drawn,  suddenly  stepped  out  of  their  conceal- 
ment, and  walked  toward  the  fire.  This  evidently 
disconcerted  the  men  with  the  thongs,  who  appa- 
rently did  not  expect  their  intended  prey  to  ap- 
proach by  any  course  except  the  passage  near 
which  they  were  standing ;  but  after  a  slight  pause 
of  hesitancy  the  thongs  were  whirling  in  the  air, 
and  descending,  lasso-fashion,  upon  the  shoulders 
of  the  intruders.  The  noose  caught  Langley  over 
his  arms,  which  were  instantly  drawn  close  against 


Il6  GHAMBA. 

his  body  as  the  thong  tightened,  so  he  was  thus 
rendered  completely  powerless;  but  Whitson 
sprang,  quick  as  lightning,  to  one  side,  and  es- 
caped. Three  shots  from  his  revolver  rang  out  in 
as  many  seconds,  and  the  two  men  and  the  woman 
—who  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  her  club  to  brain 
Langley — lay  rolling  on  the  ground,  each  with  a 
bullet  through  the  head. 

The  four  old  hags  at  the  fire  began  to  mow  and 
scream,  and  got  up  and  hobbled  into  the  cave. 
Whitson  drew  his  knife  and  cut  the  thong  with 
which  Langley  was  vainly  struggling,  and  then  the 
two  men,  pale  as  death,  looked  silently  at  each 
other  with  starting  eyes. 

Whitson  reloaded  his  revolver,  and  then  made  a 
sort  of  torch  out  of  dry  reeds,  a  pile  of  which  lay 
close  at  hand.  He  then,  leaving  Langley  to  guard 
the  cave,  carefully  examined  all  the  passages  and 
spaces  between  the  rocks,  but  he  could  find  no 
trace  of  any  one.  The  two  men  thereupon  entered 
the  cave,  Whitson  holding  the  torch  high  over  his 
head.  They  found  that  it  ran  straight  in  for  about 
fifteen  paces,  and  then  curved  sharply  to  the  left. 

It  was  about  four  paces  in  width,  and  about 
eight  feet  high,  the  roof  being  roughly  arched. 
The  walls  and  roof  were  covered  with  thick  black 
greasy  soot ;  and  an  indescribably  horrible  stench, 
which  increased  the  farther  they  advanced,  made 
them  almost  vomit.  They  found  that  where  the 
cave  curved  to  the  left  it  ended  in  a  circular  cham- 
ber about  eight  paces  in  diameter,  and  at  one  side 


GHAMBA.  1 1 7 

of  this  crouched  the  four  old  hags,  huddled  to- 
gether, and  mowing  and  chattering  horribly. 

Across  a  cleft  about  two  feet  wide,  in  the  right- 
hand  wall  of  the  cave,  a  stick  was  fixed  trans- 
versely, and  hanging  to  this  were  some  lumps  of 
half-dried  and  smoked  flesh.  Whitson  went  up 
close  and  examined  these  carefully.  He  drew 
back  with  a  shudder,  and  his  face  changed  from 
pale  to  ashen  gray. 

He  and  Langley  then  went  outside  and  stood 
for  a  while  in  the  fresh  air.  They  could  endure, 
just  then,  no  more  of  the  fetid  atmosphere  inside. 
After  a  short  time  they  gathered  up  some  dry 
twigs  and  reeds,  and  set  several  little  heaps  alight 
at  different  spots  inside.  This  had  the  effect  of 
making  the  atmosphere  more  bearable  in  the  course 
of  a  few  minutes.  They  then  made  a  larger  fire  in 
the  middle  of  the  cave,  and  proceeded  to  examine 
it  more  closely. 

They  found  several  old  iron  picks,  such  as  are 
used  by  natives  in  cultivating  their  fields,  some 
very  filthy  skins,  a  number  of  earthenware  pots, 
a  few  knives,  and  an  axe ;  but  nothing  more. 

The  floor  of  the  cave  was  of  clay,  and  at  one 
spot  it  appeared  to  have  been  recently  disturbed. 
Here  Langley  began  to  dig  with  a  pick,  which, 
just  below  the  surface,  struck  against  some  hard 
substance.  This,  when  uncovered,  proved  to  be 
a  bone.  He  threw  it  to  one  side  and  dug  deeper, 
uncovering  more  bones — some  old,  and  others 
comparatively  fresh,  but  emitting  a  horrible  smell. 


Il8  GHAMBA. 

He  stooped  and  picked  one  up,  but  dropped  it 
immediately,  as  if  it  burned  him.  It  was  the 
lower  jawbone  of  a  human  being. 

"  Great  God ! "  he  gasped.  "  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this?  " 

"  It  means,"  said  Whitson,  "  that  we  are  in  a 
nest  of  bloody  cannibals!" 

Langley  dropped  like  a  stone,  in  a  dead  faint ; 
so  Whitson  dragged  him  outside,  and,  leaving  him 
to  recover  in  the  open  air,  returned  to  the  cave. 
He  then  seized  the  pick  and  began  digging,  un- 
earthing some  new  horror  at  every  stroke.  A  glit- 
tering object  caught  his  eye ;  he  picked  this  up  and 
found  it  to  be  the  steel  buckle  of  a  woman's  belt. 
He  glanced  toward  the  cleft  in  the  rock  where  the 
lumps  of  flesh  were  hanging,  and  caught  his  breath 
short.  Going  outside  he  made  another  torch, 
which  he  lit ;  and  then  he  returned  and  carefully 
examined  the  loosened  surface.  Another  glitter- 
ing object  caught  his  eye.  This,  when  examined, 
proved  to  be  an  old  silver  watch,  the  appearance 
of  which  seemed  familiar.  He  forced  open  the 
case,  and  saw,  roughly  scratched  on  the  inside,  the 
letter  D.  He  now  recognised  it ;  he  remembered 
having  once  fixed  a  glass  in  this  very  watch  for 
Dollond,  about  a  month  before  the  latter's  disap- 
pearance. Continuing  his  search  Whitson  found 
the  iron  heel-plate  of  a  boot,  and  a  small  bunch  of 
keys. 

Whitson  drew  his  revolver,  and  picking  up  the 
torch  went  into  the  terminal  chamber.  Four  shots, 


GHAMBA.  119 

fired  in  quick  succession,  reverberated  immediately 
afterward  through  the  cavern. 

Whitson  then  went  outside  to  Langley,  whom 
he  found  sitting  down  near  the  fire,  looking,  if 
possible,  more  ghastly  than  before.  The  presence 
of  Whitson  seemed,  however,  to  act  on  him  as  a 
kind  of  tonic,  and  he  soon  pulled  himself  together 
sufficiently  to  assist  in  piling  a  quantity  of  fuel 
upon  the  already  sinking  fire,  which  soon  blazed 
brightly,  lighting  up  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  and 
the  space  in  front  of  it.  One  of  the  bodies  of  the 
men  who  had  been  shot  was  lying  on  its  side,  with 
the  face  toward  the  fire.  Whitson  examined  the 
mouth,  pushing  back  the  upper  lip  with  a  piece  of 
stick.  He  found  that  the  shape  of  the  mouth  and 
the  development  of  the  teeth  were  the  same  as 
Ghamba's.  The  other  bodies  were  lying  on  their 
faces,  so  he  did  not  trouble  to  examine  them. 

Whitson  then  told  Langley  to  follow  him,  and 
the  two  walked  down  the  foot-path  toward  where 
they  had  left  Ghamba.  Him  they  found  lying 
motionless  in  the  position  in  which  he  had  been 
left  about  an  hour  previously.  They  removed  the 
sack  and  the  gag  and  untied  his  feet,  first  taking 
the  precaution  to  fasten  the  belt  by  one  end  to  his 
bound  hands,  Whitson  holding  the  other.  They 
then  signed  to  him  to  proceed  toward  the  cave, 
and  this  he  silently  did,  without  making  any  resis- 
tance. He  looked  calmly  at  the  three  dead  bodies, 
but  said  not  a  word.  Langley  held  him,  while 
Whitson  again  tied  his  feet  together  with  the  belt, 


120  GHAMBA. 

and  then  they  placed  him  with  his  back  against 
a  rock,  facing  the  fire,  which  was  still  blazing 
brightly.  His  lips  were  drawn  back  in  a  ghastly, 
mirthless  grin,  and  the  tusks  were  revealed  from 
point  to  insertion. 

Langley  questioned  Ghamba,  but  he  would  not 
speak.  After  several  attempts  to  force  him  to  an- 
swer had  been  vainly  made,  Whitson  said : 

"Now  tell  him  that  if  he  speaks  and  tells  the 
whole  truth  he  will  only  be  shot,  but  if  he  does  not 
speak  he  will  be  burned  alive." 

This  was  interpreted,  but  the  threat  had  no  ap- 
parent effect.  So  Whitson  seized  Ghamba  and 
dragged  him  to  the  fire,  where  he  flung  him  down 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  glowing  embers. 

"  Now,"  said  Whitson,  holding  him  down  with 
his  foot,  so  that  he  got  severely  scorched,  "  for  the 
last  time,  will  you  speak?  " 

"  Take  me  away  from  the  fire,  and  I  will  speak," 
said  Ghamba,  in  English. 

So  they  lifted  him,  and  set  him  again  with  his 
back  to  the  rock. 

"Now,"  said  Whitson,  "go  ahead,  and  no 
nonsense ! " 

"  If  I  tell  the  whole  truth,"  said  Ghamba,  still 
speaking  English,  and  with  a  fair  accent,  "will 
you  swear  not  to  burn  me,  but  to  shoot  me,  so  that 
I  shall  die  at  once?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Whitson. 

"  You  too  must  swear,"  said  Ghamba,  looking 
at  Langley. 


GHAMBA.  121 

"Yes,  I  swear." 

"Very  well,"  said  Ghamba,  "I  will  tell  you 
everything,  but  you  must  both  remember  what  you 
have  sworn  to." 

"  Yes,  all  right,"  said  Whitson.  Ghamba  then 
looked  at  Langley,  who  repeated  the  words. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Ghamba,  "  all  I  can  re- 
member, and  you  can  ask  questions,  which  I  shall 
answer  truly.  You  have  heard  of  Umdava,  who 
used  to  eat  men  in  Natal  long  ago,  after  the  wars 
of  Tshaka— well,  he  was  my  uncle.  After  Um- 
dava had  been  killed  and  his  people  scattered,  my 
father,  with  a  few  followers,  came  to  live  among 
these  mountains.  But  we  found  that  after  having 
eaten  human  flesh  we  could  enjoy  no  other  food, 
so  we  caught  people  and  ate  them.  These  two 
men  lying  dead  are  my  sons,  and  that  woman  is 
my  daughter.  My  four  wives  were  here  to-night. 
They  are  very  old  women.  Have  you  not  seen 
them?  "  he  asked,  looking  at  Whitson. 

"  They  are  in  there ;  I  shot  them,"  said  Whitson, 
pointing  to  the  cave. 

"I  had  other  children,"  continued  Ghamba, 
quite  unmoved,  "  but  we  ate  them  when  food  was 
scarce." 

"  Have  you  always  lived,  all  these  years,  on 
human  flesh?"  asked  Whitson. 

"  No,  not  always ;  but  whenever  we  could  ob- 
tain it  we  did  so.  There  is  other  food  in  these 
mountains— honey,  ants'  eggs,  roots,  and  fruit; 
besides  game,  which  is,  however,  not  very  easy  to 


122  GHAMBA. 

catch.  But  we  have  often  all  had  to  go  away  and 
work  when  times  have  been  bad.  Besides,  I  have 
a  herd  of  cattle  at  a  Basuto  kraal,  and  I  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  taking  some  of  these  now  and  then, 
and  exchanging  them  for  corn,  which  the  women 
then  went  to  fetch.  But  we  have  always  tried  to 
get  people  to  eat,  because  we  could  enjoy  no  other 
kind  of  food.  Sometimes  we  got  them  easily ;  and 
when  we  were  very  fortunate  we  used  to  dry  part 
of  the  meat  by  hanging  it  up  and  lighting  a  fire 
underneath,  with  green  wood,  so  as  to  make  plenty 
of  smoke." 

"  Have  you  killed  many  white  people?  "  asked 
Whitson. 

"Yes,  a  good  number;  but  not,  of  course,  as 
many  as  black.  Lately  we  have  always  tried  to 
catch  whites,  because  when  you  have  eaten  white 
flesh  for  some  time,  the  flesh  of  a  native  no  longer 
satisfies  you." 

"Why  not?" 

"The  flavour  is  not  so  strong." 

"  Did  you  induce  the  other  two  policemen  to 
come  up  by  means  of  the  story  about  Umhlonhlo?  " 

"  Yes,  they  came  up  just  as  you  did,  and  my 
sons  caught  them  with  the  thongs.  Umhlonhlo 
has  brought  us  plenty  of  food." 

"  Were  you  able  to  take  the  cartridges  out  of 
their  revolvers  as  you  did  out  of  mine?  " 

"No,  I  had  no  opportunity;  but  it  was  not 
necessary,  because  my  sons  were  so  expert  at 
throwing  the  thongs  that  they  could  always  catch 


GHAMBA.  1 23 

people  over  the  arms,  and  thus  render  them  unable 
to  shoot." 

"  How  did  they  manage  to  become  so  expert?  " 

"  By  continued  practice.  I  used  to  walk  up  the 
path  over  and  over  again,  and  let  them  throw  the 
thong  over  me.  Then  the  woman  was  always 
there  with  the  club,  so  that,  if  one  of  the  thongs 
missed,  she  was  ready  to  strike.  I,  also,  was 
usually  ready  to  help,  in  case  of  necessity." 

"Why  did  you  think  it  necessary  to  take  the 
cartridges  out  of  my  revolver?  " 

"  Because  I  feared  you  from  the  first,  and  were 
it  not  that  he  " — baring  his  teeth  and  glancing  at 
Langley,  who  shuddered — "  looked  so  nice,  and 
that  we  wanted  fresh  meat  so  badly,  I  would  not 
have  risked  bringing  you.  But  it  would  have  been 
all  right  if  I  had  only  let  your  revolver  alone." 

"  You  say  Umhlonhlo  has  brought  you  plenty  of 
food ;  did  you  ever  get  any  one  besides  ourselves 
and  the  other  two  policemen  to  come  up  here  by 
telling  them  that  story?  " 

"  Yes,  two  others — one  a  man  who  was  search- 
ing for  gold  on  the  Free  State  side  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  other  a  trader  whom  I  met  at 
Maseru.  But  these  each  came  alone." 

"  I  see  the  buckle  of  a  woman's  belt  in  there. 
Whom  did  that  belong  to?  You  surely  never  got 
a  white  woman  up  here?  " 

"Yes,  we  did,"  said  Ghamba,  with  a  horrible 
half-smile  which  bared  the  gums  high  above  the 
sockets  of  his  tusks.  "  She  was  a  young  girl  who 


1 24  GHAMBA. 

had  strayed  from  a  waggon  passing  over  the  moun- 
tain by  the  Ladysmith  road,  only  a  day's  walk 
from  here.  I  pretended  to  show  her  the  shortest 
way  to  her  waggon,  and  thus  brought  her  as  far  as 
she  could  walk  in  this  direction.  I  then  killed  her, 
and  came  up  here  and  fetched  my  sons.  We  car- 
ried her  up  in  the  night.  She  was  very  young  and 
plump,  and  I  have  never  eaten  anything  that  I 
enjoyed  so  much."  (Whitson  turned  cold  with 
horror.  He  remembered  the  girl's  mysterious  dis- 
appearance, and  the  fruitless  searches  undertaken 
in  consequence.)  "  His  flesh  " — glancing  again 
at  Langley — "looks  something  like  hers  did,  and 
I  am  sure  it  would  taste  just  as  nice.  There  was 
still  a  little  of  her  left  when  I  went  away  last  week. 
If  you  will  go  in  there  and  look  where  the  rock  is 
split  on  the  right-hand  side,  you  will — "  But  he 
did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  a  bullet  from  Whit- 
son's  revolver  crushed  through  his  brain,  and  he 
tumbled  forward  on  his  face  into  the  fire. 

It  was  only  after  tremendous  difficulty  that 
Whitson  and  Langley  succeeded  in  escaping  from 
the  mountains.  However,  on  the  evening  of  the 
third  day  after  their  adventure  in  the  cave,  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  police  camp.  Whitson  sat 
down  on  a  stone,  and  motioned  his  companion  to 
do  the  same. 

"  See  here,  sonny,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  have  a 
short  talk  with  you.  I  am  a  bit  cross  with  you  as 
the  cause  of  my  having  been  sucked  in  by  that 


GHAMBA.  125 

d — d  murdering  old  walrus.  You  ought  to  know 
the  inhabitants  of  this  country  better  than  a  simple 
stranger  like  me,  and  so  I  took  your  lead.  Now, 
another  thing:  you  nearly  bust  us  both  by  your 
blasted  foolishness  in  going  to  sleep  that  day ;  but 
let  that  pass,  because  perhaps  it  would  have  beer* 
worse  if  we  had  not  been  put  on  our  guard ;  not 
but  that  it  would  take  a  d— d  smart  cannibal  to  eat 
Hiram  Whitson.  But  this  is  what  I  am  coming 
to :  you,  my  boy,  are  a  darned  sight  too  fond  of 
hearing  your  own  tongue  clack.  Now,  take  a 
warning  from  me,  and  don't  let  a  word  of  what 
has  happened  since  we  left  camp  for  Pietermaritz- 
burg  pass  your  lips.  I  did  all  the  shooting,  and 
I  'm  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  it ;  but,  by  the  eternal 
God,  if  you  open  your  lips  to  a  soul,  I  '11  shoot  you 
like  a  dog  or  a  cannibal!  Remember  that,  sonny, 
and  say  it  quietly  over  to  yourself  the  first  time  you 
feel  that  you  want  to  blab.  Now,  shake  hands." 

This  was  probably  the  longest  speech  that  Whit- 
son  had  ever  made. 

About  two  years  after  the  events  narrated, 
Whitson  took  his  discharge  and  returned  to  Amer- 
ica. He  left  behind  him  a  sealed  packet  addressed 
to  his  commanding  officer,  and  which  was  not  to 
be  delivered  for  twelve  months  after  his  departure. 

Owing,  however,  to  a  strange  combination  of 
fortuitous  circumstances,  this  packet  never  reached 
its  proper  destination  ;  its  wrapper,  bearing  the  ad- 
dress, having  been  scorched  off  in  a  fire  which  took 
place  in  the  house  where  it  was  left. 


126  GHAMBA. 

NOTE 

Many  people  have  heard  or  read  of  the  cannibals  of  Natal, 
who  turned  large  tracts  of  country  into  a  shambles  in  the 
early  part  of  this  century,  after  Tshaka's  impis  had  swept 
off  all  the  cattle,  and  then  kept  the  miserable  people  continu- 
ally on  the  move  so  that  they  were  unable  to  cultivate.  One 
Umdava  originated  the  practice  of  eating  human  flesh. 
Gathering  together  the  fragments  of  four  scattered  tribes, 
he  trained  them  to  hunt  human  beings  as  others  hunted 
game.  This  gang  was  a  greater  scourge  to  the  country  sur- 
rounding the  present  site  of  Pietermaritzburg  than  even 
Tshaka's  murdering  hordes.  It  was  broken  up  in  or  about 
the  year  1824,  when  the  Europeans  first  came  to  the  country, 
and  the  remnants  of  many  scattered  tribes  returned  and  set- 
tied  under  their  protection. 

All  this  is  history  with  which  most  people  in  South  Africa 
are  familiar,  but  many  do  not  know  that  some  of  the  can- 
nibals fled  to  Basutoland,  where,  among  almost  inacces- 
sible  mountains,  they  carried  on  their  horrible  practices  for 
many  years. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  when  men  once  surrender 
themselves  to  any  unnatural  and  brutal  vice,  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  abnormal  instinct  thus  acquired  becomes  the 
most  imperative  need  of  their  nature.  The  Falkland  Islands 
case,  as  bearing  specially  upon  the  foregoing  narrative,  may 
be  mentioned.  Some  convicts  escaped  from  the  Falkland 
Island  convict  station,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  the  coast 
of  Patagonia.  They  then  endeavored  to  make  their  way  to 
Montevideo,  but  having  to  keep  along  the  shore  so  as  to 
avoid  the  natives,  who  would  have  killed  them  had  they 
ventured  inland,  were  easily  intercepted  by  the  government 
cutter,  which  was  always  despatched  in  cases  of  the  kind  to 
head  off  fugitives  upon  their  only  possible  course.  Of  the 
party  only  one  man  was  found  alive.  In  their  dreadful 
need  the  men  had  cast  lots  as  to  who  should  be  killed  and 
eaten  by  the  others,  and  this  went  on  until  only  the  one  man 
remained.  His  sufferings  had  been  so  horrible  that  he  was 


GHAMBA.  127 

let  off  any  further  punishment,  and  simply  brought  back  to 
the  island  to  complete  the  term  of  his  sentence.  Some 
months  after,  this  man  induced  another  to  escape  with  him 
in  a  boat,  and,  when  the  boat  was  overtaken,  it  was  found 
he  had  killed  his  companion  for  the  purpose  of  eating  the 
latter's  flesh.  This  was  apparent  from  the  fact  that  the 
supply  of  food  which  the  fugitives  had  taken  with  them  was 
not  exhausted. 


MARY  MUSGRAVE 

ANONYMOUS 


MARY  MUSGRAVE 

ANONYMOUS 

"  "VTINE  carats  ef  it 's  a  blessed  one." 

1M  "  Scale  'im,  an'  ye  '11  find  he 's  a  half  better. 
Clear  es  a  bottle  o'  gin,  an'  flawless  es  the  pope! 
Tommy  Dartmoor,  ye  're  in  luck,  s'  welp  me  never 
ef  ye  ain't,  an'  that  's  a  brilliant  yer  can  show  the 
polis  an'  not  get  time  fer." 

Tommy  Dartmoor,  who  owed  his  surname  to  a 
crown  establishment  within  the  restraining  walls 
of  which  he  had  once  enjoyed  a  temporary  resi- 
dence, growled  out  a  recommendation  to  "stow 
that,"  and  then  added,  "Boys,  we  '11  wet  this. 
Trek  to  Werstein's." 

Forthwith  a  crowd  of  dirty,  tanned  diggers 
turned  their  heads  in  the  direction  of  Gustav 
Werstein's  American  Bar,  and  walked  toward  it  as 
briskly  as  the  heat  and  their  weariness  would  ad- 
mit of.  The  Israelite  saw  them  coming,  straight- 
ened himself  out  of  the  half-doze  in  which  he  had 
passed  the  baking  afternoon,  stopped  down  the 
tobacco  in  the  porcelain  bowl  of  his  long-stemmed 
pipe  with  stumpy  forefinger,  and,  twisting  a  cork 
off  his  corkscrew,  stood  in  readiness. 

"  Name  yer  pizons,  boys,  an'  get  outside  'em, 
wishin'  all  good  luck  to  R'yal  Straight;  R'yal 


132  MARY   MUSGRAVE. 

Straight  bein'  the  name  o'  this  yer  stone  given  by 
Thomas  D.  H  esquire,  original  diskiverer  an'  pres- 
ent perprietor." 

The  orders  were  given, — bass  at  five  shillings  a 
bottle,  champagne  (ne'e  gooseberry)  at  five  pounds, 
Cape  smoke  at  two  shillings  per  two  fingers, — and, 
at  a  given  signal,  there  was  an  inarticulate  roar 
from  dusty  throats,  an  inversion  of  tumblers  over 
thirsty  mouths,  and  a  second  inversion  over  the 
ground  to  show  that  all  the  contents  had  disap- 
peared. 

Satan,  the  one  cat  and  only  domestic  pet  of  the 
camp,  saw  that  there  was  a  general  treat  going  on, 
and  bustling  up  for  his  drink  took  a  can  of  con- 
densed milk  at  six  shillings.  Other  diggers  came 
trooping  in  as  the  news  spread,  and  Tommy  Dart- 
moor, who  was  rapidly  becoming  mellow,  for  he 
drank  half  a  tumbler  of  raw  whisky  with  every 
one  who  nodded  to  him,  stood  them  refreshments 
galore,  while  the  greasy  Jew  began  to  see  visions 
of  his  adopted  fatherland  in  the  near  distance. 

So  the  Kaffirs,  except  those  who  had  supplies  of 
their  own,  kept  sober  and  peaceful,  while  the 
higher  order  of  the  human  race  at  Big  Stone  Hole, 
after  the  manner  of  their  kind,  began  to  squabble. 
It  was  natural  for  them  to  do  so,  perhaps,  for  the 
weather  was  hot,  and  the  liquors,  for  the  most 
part,  more  so ;  and  under  these  circumstances  men 
do  not  always  cast  about  them  long  for  a  casus 
belli.  One  or  two  minor  brawls  opened  the  ball, 
and  Herr  Gustav,  scenting  battle  in  the  air,  drew 


MARY    MUSGRAVE.  133 

from  a  locker  a  card,  which  he  balanced  against 
the  bottles  on  a  shelf  above  his  head.  It  read 
thus: 

GENTS  IS  REKESTED  TO  SHOOT 

CLEAR  OF  THE  BARR-KEP. 

BROKIN   GLAS   MAY   BE   FADE   FOR 

AT   COST   PRISE. 

and  had  been  written  for  the  German  by  a  gentle- 
man who  had  had  some  experience  in  Forty  Rod 
Gulch,  Nevada.  The  action  elicited  a  contemp- 
tuous laugh  from  one  or  two  of  the  new  hands,  but 
the  oldsters  began  shifting  sundry  articles  which 
depended  from  their  belts  into  positions  from 
which  they  might  be  handled  at  the  shortest  notice ; 
and  the  black  cat,  more  wise  than  any  of  them, 
having  drunk  his  fill,  stalked  solemnly  out  into  the 
security  of  the  darkness. 

The  sun  went  down, — went  out  with  a  click, 
some  one  declared, — and,  as  no  twilight  interposed 
between  daylight  and  darkness  in  the  country 
which  Big  Stone  Hole  ornamented,  Herr  Gustav 
lit  his  two  paraffin-lamps.  Neither  boasted  of 
more  than  a  one-inch  wick,  and,  as  their  glasses 
were  extremely  smoky,  the  illumination  was  not 
brilliant ;  but  it  sufficed  to  show  the  flushed,  angry 
faces  of  a  couple  of  men  standing  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  with  all  the  others  clustered  round, 
watching  eagerly.  One  was  the  Scholar.  The  other 
was  a  burly  giant,  whose  missing  left  little  finger 
caused  him  to  be  nicknamed  the  Cripple.  About 


134  MARY   MUSGRAVE. 

what  they  had  originally  fallen  out  was  not  clear 
to  any  one,  to  themselves  least  of  all.  As  the  case 
stood  when  the  second  lamp  was  lit,  Scholar  had 
called  Cripple  a  something-or-othered  liar,  and 
Cripple,  who  was  not  inventive,  had  retorted  by 
stigmatising  Scholar  as  another.  Further  recrimi- 
nations followed,  and  their  pistols  were  drawn; 
but  as  the  audience  had  a  strong  objection  to  in- 
discriminate shooting,  by  which  it  was  not  likely  to 
benefit,  the  belligerents  were  seized.  No  one  was 
unsportsmanlike  enough  to  wish  to  stop  the  fight, 
and  Jockey  Bill,  giving  voice  to  the  general  wish 
of  the  meeting,  proposed  that  the  gents  be  fixed 
up  agin'  a  couple  o'  posts  outside,  where  they 
might  let  daylight  into  each  other  without  lead- 
poisoning  casual  spectators. 

The  motion  was  acted  on,  and  after  rectifying  a 
slight  omission  on  the  Cripple's  part — he  had  for- 
gotten to  put  caps  on  the  nipples  of  his  revolver — 
the  pair  of  them  were  seated  upon  upturned  barrels 
some  ten  yards  apart,  each  with  a  lamp  at  his  feet, 
and  told  to  begin  when  they  saw  fit  to  do  so.  The 
swarthy,  bearded  diggers  grouped  themselves  on 
either  side,  and  the  cat,  emerging  from  his  retreat, 
scrambled  on  to  the  shoulder  of  one  of  them,  fully 
as  curious  as  the  rest  to  "see  the  shootin'."  It 
was  a  weird  sight, — dust,  scorched  grass,  empty 
tins,  rude  hovels,  piles  of  debris,  African  moon- 
light,— yet,  except,  perhaps,  in  the  eyes  of  the  new- 
est comers,  there  was  nothing  strange  in  it.  The 
others  were  too  wrapped  up  in  what  was  going  to 


MARY    MUSGRAVE.  135 

take  place  to  see  anything  quaint  in  their  every-day 
surroundings.  There  was  no  theatre  in  the  camp. 
The  little  impromptu  drama  riveted  all  attention. 

But  before  the  duel  commenced,  a  galloping 
horse,  which  had  approached  over  the  grassy  veldt 
unnoticed  during  the  excitement,  drew  up  with  a 
crash  between  the  two  combatants,  and  its  rider, 
raising  his  hand  to  command  attention,  cried  : 

"  Boys,  there  's  a  white  woman  comin' ! " 

"  A  white  woman ! "  was  chorused  in  various 
tones  of  disbelief.  "  What,  here?  White  woman 
comin'  here,  Dan?" 

And  then  some  one  inquired  if  she  was  a  Boer. 

"Boer— no,"  replied  Dan;  "  English— English 
as  I  am;  leastways  Englisher,  bein'  Amurrican- 
born  myself.  Overtook  her  et  Hottentot  Drift. 
Thort  I  'd  spur  on  an'  tell  yer.  We  'd  do  wi'  a 
clean-up,  some  on  us." 

Dan  spoke  indistinctly,  as  a  bullet  had  lately 
disarranged  some  of  his  teeth ;  but  his  words  had 
a  wonderful  effect. 

Each  man  began  instinctively  to  tidy  himself. 
The  would-be  duellists,  forgetting  their  quarrel, 
stuck  the  revolvers  in  their  belts  and  followed  the 
general  example.  The  Cripple  hied  him  to  the 
store,  and  after  breaking  down  the  door  abstracted 
the  only  blacking-brush  in  the  camp, — putting 
down  a  sovereign  on  the  counter  in  exchange  for 
it, — and  set  to  polishing  his  high  boots  as  if  a  for- 
tune depended  on  their  brightness.  The  Scholar 
bought  Herr  Gustav's  white  shirt  for  a  fiver,  threat- 


136  kAfcY  MUSGRAVE. 

ening  to  murder  its  owner  if  he  did  not  render  it 
up.  And  Partridge,  a  good  man  from  Norfolk, 
with  a  regrettable  weakness  for  shooting  other 
people's  game,  induced  a  friend  to  denude  him  of 
his  flowing  locks  by  means  of  a  clasp-knife  and  a 
hunk  of  wood,  as  no  scissors  were  procurable. 

The  wardrobes  of  Big  Stone  Hole  were  stocked 
more  with  a  view  to  strict  utility  than  variety  or 
ornamentation,  and  the  slender  resources  of  the 
store  utterly  gave  out  under  the  sudden  strain  that 
was  put  upon  them.  In  every  direction  grimy, 
unkempt  men  might  be  seen  attempting  to  beau- 
tify themselves.  Here  was  one  enduring  agonies 
from  a  razor  that  would  scarcely  whittle  a  stick ; 
here  another  recalling  the  feel  of  a  cake  of  soap ; 
there  a  great  fellow  pulling  faces  as  he  struggled 
to  get  the  teeth  of  a  comb  into  his  shock  of  hair ; 
there  another  brushing  the  clay  from  his  moleskin 
trousers  with  a  tuft  of  stiff  grass. 

It  seemed  to  these  men  ages  since  they  had  last 
seen  a  woman  in  the  flesh, — Kaffir  women  don't 
count ;  they  are  not  women,  merely  Kaffirs, — and, 
with  the  natural  instinct  of  males  of  every  species, 
they  set  about  pluming  their  feathers. 

These  operations,  though  speedy  as  might  be, 
were  necessarily  prolonged,  for  most  of  the  men  re- 
quired several  buckets  of  water  over  the  head  be- 
fore they  felt  fit  for  such  unaccustomed  exercises, 
and  they  were  scarcely  finished  before  the  creak- 
ing of  wheels  and  the  cries  of  the  voorlooper  as 
he  urged  his  oxen  announced  that  the  wagon  was 


MARY   MUSGRAVE.  137 

within  earshot.  Up  it  came,  the  great  tilt  gleam- 
ing white  in  the  moonlight,  and  every  eye  was  fixed 
expectantly  on  the  dark  chasm  within.  The  driver, 
puffed  up  with  his  own  importance,  cracked  his 
long  whip  and  deigned  not  to  notice  the  men 
whom  he  usually  greeted  with  a  friendly  hail,  and 
the  Hottentot  boy  ahead,  imitating  his  master, 
vouchsafed  no  explanation.  With  more  deathly 
slowness  than  usual  did  the  lumbering  vehicle 
crawl  along  until  the  tired  cattle  pulled  up  before 
the  door  of  the  American  Bar.  Then  there  was  a 
rush  and  a  bit  of  a  scuffle  for  the  honour  of  hand- 
ing the  woman  out.  The  Cripple  was  the  fortu- 
nate man,  and,  after  assisting  her  to  the  ground, 
waved  his  tattered  hat  toward  the  gleaming  open 
doorway.  But  he  did  not  speak.  Words  were 
beyond  him.  Indeed,  the  diggers,  who  were  none 
of  them  particularly  remarkable  for  taciturnity  as 
a  general  thing,  seemed,  with  one  exception,  to  be 
stricken  dumb.  But  the  Scholar  proved  himself 
equal  to  the  occasion,  and  with  courtly  phrase  bade 
the  new-comer  welcome  to  the  camp.  He  had 
always  been  a  popular  man  among  women  in  his 
palmier  days,  though  openly  holding  rather  a  poor 
opinion  of  them ;  and  as  the  one  before  him  now 
was  neat  of  speech  and  comely  of  form,  he  was 
not  at  all  averse  to  enjoying  her  society  and  con- 
versation. 

"  I  should  be  much  obliged  if  you  would  direct 
me  to  a  hotel,"  she  said,  after  taking  a  look  around 
the  cheap  gaudiness  of  the  saloon. 


138  MARY    MUSGRAVE. 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  say  that  we  have  no  hotel  here 
as  yet,  Miss — er — ?  " 

"Musgrave.  Miss  Mary  Musgrave  "— with  a 
little  bow.  "But  I  heard  that  a  German  had 
started  a  hotel  here." 

"  No ;  there  is  nothing  but  this.  That  "—point- 
ing to  Herr  Gustav,  who  was  regarding  the  new- 
comer with  an  evil  eye — "that  is  the  German." 

Miss  Musgrave  appeared  distressed. 

"  Then  where  can  I  go?  "  she  asked.  "  Are  there 
any  lodgings  to  be  had?  " 

"  The  lady  may  have  my  place,"  chorused  three 
eager  voices,  and  every  man  in  the  room  repeated 
the  offer. 

She  thanked  them  with  a  pretty  smile  and  one 
comprehensive  bow,  and  looked  up  at  the  Scholar 
for  help. 

"  I  would  offer  you  my  hut  if  it  were  not  such  a 
wretched  one.  But,  as  it  is,  I  should  advise  you 
to  take  this  man's" — and  he  pointed  to  Tommy 
Dartmoor. 

"  Why,  mine  's  twenty  carats  better  than  hisn! " 
exclaimed  the  Cripple. 

"  And  mine  better  'n  either,"  growled  Dan. 

"  Mine  's  the  best  of  the  lot." 

"  No,  it  is  n't ;  mine  is,"  yelled  others,  till  there 
was  a  general  roar,  which  caused  Miss  Mus- 
grave to  look  frightened  and  shrink  nearer  to  the 
Scholar,  and  that  gentleman  to  raise  his  hand  for 
silence. 

"Look  here,"  said  he,  "we  '11  pick  out  the 


MARY    MUSGRAVE.  139 

twelve  best,  and  their  owners  can  cut  with  one 
another  from  a  pack  of  cards." 

After  some  discussion  twelve  were  settled  upon, 
but  the  number  was  immediately  raised  to  thirteen 
to  prevent  Jockey  Bill  disgracing  the  camp  by 
shooting  before  a  lady.  A  pack  of  cards  was 
placed  on  the  bar,  and  each  man  chose  one,  hold- 
ing his  selection  face  downward  till  all  were  ready. 
Then  the  Scholar  said,  "  Turn,"  and  there  were  ex- 
hibited five  aces,  two  kings,  a  queen,  three  knaves, 
and  two  smaller  cards.  This  was  awkward,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  and,  while  sarcastic  laughter  rippled 
among  the  spectators,  there  was  an  instinctive 
movement  of  right  hands  toward  the  back  of  the 
belt  on  the  part  of  each  of  the  thirteen. 

But  the  Scholar's  voice,  full  of  remonstrance, 
said,  "  Boys,  you  're  being  looked  at,"  and  there 
was  a  regretful  sigh  or  two,  but  no  bloodshed. 

Miss  Musgrave  gazed  inquiringly  from  one  to 
another,  and  the  Scholar,  laying  his  hand  on  her 
arm,  whispered  something  in  her  ear.  She  smiled, 
whispered  back,  and  was  answered,  and  then,  strip- 
ping off  a  pair  of  well-fitting  fawn  gloves,  she  took 
the  cards  in  a  pretty  little  white  hand,  and  dealt 
out  one  to  each  of  the  competitors  with  charming 
clumsiness. 

"  Ain't  touched  a  keard  afore,  bless  her,"  whis- 
pered Euchre  Buck,  giving  his  neighbour  Dan  a 
nudge  in  the  ribs  to  call  attention  to  this  wonder- 
ful piece  of  girlish  innocence.  "  Square  a  deal  es 
George  Washington  mought  ha'  made."  Then,  as 


140  MARY    MUSGRAVE. 

the  greasy  pasteboards  were  turned  up,  and  his 
neighbour  was  handed  the  ace  of  clubs,  he  raised 
his  voice  and  yelled  out,  "Bully  for  you,  Dan! 
Cut  away  an'  clar  yer  cabin  out." 

Away  scampered  Dan  out  into  the  darkness, 
with  the  rest  of  the  crew  at  his  heels.  Their  home 
comforts  were  very  small,  poor  fellows ;  but  each 
gave  of  his  best,  though  the  gifts  were  often  in- 
congruous enough.  In  half  an  hour  the  cabin 
was  fitted  out  with  a  small  cracked  looking-glass, 
two  combs,  an  old  hair-brush, — still  wet  from  the 
wash,— a  pail,  a  frying-pan,  three  kettles,  two  three- 
legged  stools,  and  so  many  blankets  that  some  were 
requisitioned  to  carpet  the  floor.  The  whole  crowd 
accompanied  Miss  Musgrave  to  her  door  and  gave 
her  a  cheer  by  way  of  good-night.  She  bowed  to 
them,  smiling  her  thanks,  and  looking,  as  they 
thought,  entrancingly  lovely  as  she  stood  there, 
with  the  pale  moonbeams  falling  full  on  her. 

Then  she  turned  to  go  in,  but  as  Euchre  Buck 
stepped  forward  with  an  admonishing  cough,  she 
waited  and  looked  round  at  him. 

"  Miss,"  said  he,  holding  out  a  big  revolver  in 
his  hard  fist,  "  you  take  this  yer  gun,  an'  ef  any  one 
whistles,  or  otherwise  disturbs  you,  let  a  hole  into 
him  straight  away,  an'  we  '11  see  him  buried  decent." 

But  Miss  Musgrave  courteously,  and  with  pro- 
fuse thanks,  refused  the  offer,  and,  saying  that  she 
had  perfect  confidence  in  all  who  were  around  her, 
gave  Euchre  Buck  a  bewitching  smile,  went  inside, 
and  closed  the  door  after  her. 


MARY   MUSGRAVE.  141 

Then  the  diggers  returned  to  Gustav  Werstein's 
American  Bar  and  discussed  the  new  arrival. 

"  I  known  Noomarket  an'  Hascot  an'  Hepsom, 
an'  all  the  places  where  swells  goes  in  England," 
said  Jockey  Bill,  enthusiastically ;  "  but  never  one 
come  there  as  pretty  as  she,  stop  my  license  if  ther' 
did." 

"  Grand  eyes,  hain't  she?  "  said  Tommy  Dart- 
moor. " Regular  fust- water  'uns.  Here  's  to  'em! " 

"  And — a — hoof!  See  it  peep  below  her  gownd. 
S'  welp  me  ef  it  wer'  es  big  es  my  'bacca-box! " 

"  An'  'er  close,  gentlemen !  Made  to  measure, 
every  thread  on  'em,  I  allow." 

"She  's  a  lady,  boys,"  exclaimed  he  who  had 
offered  to  see  after  a  funeral,  "  a  reg'lar  slap-up, 
high-toned,  blow-yer-eyes-don't-touch-me  lady ; 
an'  as  she  sees  fit  to  do  the  civil  to  this  fellar"— 
striking  himself  on  the  chest— "he  's  just  going  to 
drop  his  professional  name,  an'  arsk  yer  to  call  him 
Mister  Samuel  K.  Gregson,  Esquire.  Play  on 
that." 

Next  morning  the  inhabitants  of  Big  Stone  Hole 
were  startled  by  reading  this  announcement  outside 
the  cabin  which  Dan  had  resigned  to  Miss  Mus- 
grave : 

SINGING  AND   MUSIC  TAUGHT. 
LITERARY  WORK  DONE. 

It  was  printed  on  a  card,  which  was  affixed  to 
the  door  by  means  of  a  drawing-pin,  and  from 
within  came  the  sound  of  a  contralto  voice  singing 


142  MARY    MUSGRAVE. 

to  a  guitar  accompaniment.  One  by  one  the  male 
residents  of  Big  Stone  Hole  drew  near  to  that  iron- 
roofed  hut  and  stopped  to  listen;  but  after  com- 
menting on  the  innovation  in  gleeful  whispers — for 
guitar  had  never  twanged  in  that  part  of  Africa 
before — they  moved  on  to  their  work.  No  consid- 
eration could  cause  them  to  neglect  that.  They 
might  fritter  away  the  dull,  rough  gems  when  they 
had  found  them,  but  the  lust  of  handling  diamonds 
once  was  the  strongest  passion  they  knew.  And  so 
the  day's  toil  was  not  curtailed ;  but  at  the  conclu- 
sion Miss  Musgrave  had  an  application  for  instruc- 
tion in  music  from  every  man  in  the  camp,  with  one 
exception.  This  one  defaulter  was  Euchre  Buck. 
He  owned  to  having  no  ear  for  music — thereby  ex- 
hibiting more  honesty  than  many  of  the  others — 
and  confessed  to  knowing  only  two  tunes,  one  of 
which  was  "  Hail  Columbia,"  and  the  other — 
was  n't ;  and  so  he  said  he  wanted  some  "  literary 
work  done."  He  proposed  to  Miss  Musgrave 
that  she  should  write  a  history  of  his  life  at  half  a 
guinea  a  page,  thereby — cute  Yankee  that  he  was 
— thinking  to  appropriate  the  whole  of  her  time. 
But  embarrassed  by  all  these  calls  upon  her,  and 
obviously  unable  to  satisfy  each  of  them,  Miss 
Musgrave  turned  for  help  to  the  Scholar,  whom  she 
appeared  to  regard  as  her  special  adviser ;  and  he, 
promising  a  solution  of  the  difficulty  in  half  an 
hour,  drew  off  the  whole  crowd  to  the  American 
Bar,  where  the  question  was  thrashed  out  in  all  its 
points. 


MARY   MUSGRAVE.  143 

It  was  clearly  evident  that  Miss  Musgrave  could 
not  surrender  to  each  individual  the  whole  of  her 
evening,  even  if  any  one  had  been  willing  to  let 
his  neighbour  monopolise  it,  which  no  one  was  ; 
and  therefore  it  was  necessary  to  formulate  some 
scheme  by  which  her  talents  might  be  distributed 
over  a  larger  area.  But  what  the  scheme  should 
be  was  not  settled  all  in  a  minute.  One  man 
wanted  to  hear  her  sing,  another  to  hear  her  talk, 
another  was  willing  to  give  five  pounds  an  hour  for 
the  privilege  of  talking  to  her.  After  a  lengthened 
discussion,  which  was  excited  throughout,  and  at 
times  verged  on  the  warlike,  it  was  decided  to 
effect  a  compromise — subject,  of  course,  to  Miss 
Musgrave's  inclinations;  and  a  deputation  was 
sent  to  learn  her  views  on  the  subject. 

There  was  no  assembly-room  in  the  place,  ex- 
cepting Werstein's  saloon, — which,  of  course,  was 
not  available  for  such  a  purpose, — and  so  it  was 
proposed  to  her,  with  much  humility,  that  she 
should  take  up  her  position  in  the  evenings  on  a 
chair  outside  her  hut,  and  there  discourse  such 
vocal  and  instrumental  music  as  she  saw  fit,  inter- 
larding the  same  with  friendly  conversation.  What 
was  she  to  talk  about  ?  Anything — absolutely  any- 
thing. They  did  n't  mind  what  it  was,  so  long  as 
they  heard  her  voice.  Five  shillings,  the  commit- 
tee had  decided,  was  to  be  paid  by  every  man  who 
came  within  earshot.  And  any  one  who  wanted 
a  free  list  was  requested  to  argue  the  matter  out 
with  Euchre  Buck. 


144  MARY    MUSGRAVE. 

This  call  upon  her  powers  seemed  to  take  Miss 
Musgrave  aback. 

"  I  have  never  sung  in  public,"  she  pleaded, 
rather  nervously.  "  Indeed,  my  voice  is  not  good 
enough  for  it ;  really  it  is  n't.  Only  I  thought  I 
could  teach  a  little  perhaps,  and  that  is  why  I 
came  here.  You  see,  mother  is  an  invalid,  and 
we  were  so  very  poor  that — " 

"  Miss,"  broke  in  Jockey  Bill,  "  call  it  ten  bob 
a  'ead,  an'  just  'urn  to  us." 

"Oh  no,  Mr.  William,  it  was  not  the  money 
that  I  thought  about ;  indeed,  five  shillings  would 
be  far  too  much.  But  if  you  think  that  I  should 
be  able  to  amuse  you  at  all,  I  would  do  my  very 
best — believe  me,  I  would." 

"  Miss,"  growled  Dan,  with  a  clumsy  endeavour 
to  chase  away  her  diffidence,  "  all  we  asks  is  fer  you 
to  sit  near  us  fer  a  spell.  Ef  you  sings  or  plays, 
we  'd  be  proud ;  ef  you  just  looks  an'  talks,  we  'd 
be  pleased." 

So  in  the  end  Miss  Musgrave  yielded  to  the 
wishes  of  the  community,  and  the  nightly  conclave 
in  the  American  Bar  became  so  much  a  thing 
of  the  past  that  Gustav  Werstein  was  heard  to 
threaten  another  emigration.  The  songs  were  to 
the  diggers  new,  and  yet  not  new.  There  was 
nothing  of  the  music-hall  type  about  them;  they 
were  nearly  all  old-fashioned  ditties.  She  sang  to 
them  of  "  Barbara  Allen  "  and  "  Sally  in  our  Alley" ; 
she  gave  them  "  Cheer,  Boys,  Cheer,"  and  called  for 
a  chorus ;  she  sang  "  The  Message,"  "  The  Arrow 


MARY  MUSGRAVE.  145 

and  the  Song  " ;  and  she  brought  back  memories 
of  other  days  when  Africa  was  to  them  a  mere 
geographical  expression — of  days  when  that  some- 
thing had  not  happened  which  had  sent  them  away 
from  home. 

Sunday  came,  the  fifth  day  after  her  arrival,  and 
it  differed  from  the  usual  Sabbath  of  Big  Stone 
Hole.  Sunday  had  been  observed  before  by  the 
biggest  drinking  bout  of  the  week,  and  a  summary 
settlement  of  the  previous  six  days'  disputes. 
Now,  to  the  huge  surprise  of  the  Kaffirs,  and  to 
the  still  greater  surprise  of  themselves,  these  dia- 
mond-diggers sang  hymns  at  intervals  during  the 
day,  and  refrained  from  indulging  in  the  orthodox 
carouse  till  after  Miss  Musgrave  had  retired  for  the 
night.  It  was  a  wonderful  change. 

During  the  next  week  a  fall  of  earth  took  place 
in  Tommy  Dartmoor's  claim.  Two  Kaffirs  were 
killed ;  and  when  the  proprietor  himself  was  ex- 
tricated from  the  debris  of  blue  clay  which  held 
him  down,  he  was  found  to  have  a  broken  arm, 
besides  other  serious  injuries. 

"  Don't  let  on  to  her,"  he  managed  to  gasp  out 
to  his  rescuers,  wishing  to  spare  Miss  Musgrave's 
nerves  a  shock. 

But  she  saw  the  men  bearing  him  to  his  hut, 
joined  them,  and  insisted  on  being  installed  as  sole 
nurse  forthwith. 

Twenty  other  men  would  willingly  have  broken 
an  arm  for  such  a  reward ;  and  the  recklessness 
displayed  during  the  next  few  days  was  something 


146  MARY   MUSGRAVE. 

awful.  But  she  saw  that  too, — little  escaped  those 
big  blue  eyes,— and,  ascribing  it  to  drink,  gave  a 
pretty  strong  lecture  on  the  bibulous  habits  of  Big 
Stone  Hole,  at  her  next  concert. 

There  was  an  earnest  meeting  in  the  American 
Bar  that  night,  at  which  the  following  motion  was 
put  and  carried  unanimously :  "  On  and  after  this 
date,  any  drunken  man  is  liable  to  be  shot  at  sight, 
unless  his  friends  can  prove  that  he  has  dug  over 
three  carats  of  diamonds  during  the  day."  And 
then,  like  other  reformers,  they  went  on  to  more 
sweeping  measures :  "Only  knife-fighting  to  take 
place  in  the  camp.  All  disputes  with  pistols,  un- 
less of  a  very  pressing  nature,  to  be  settled  out  of 
earshot  of  Dan's  house."  There  were  even  some 
hints  of  appointing  a  closing-time  for  the  saloon 
—  "it  would  make  the  place  so  much  more  like 
home."  But  the  promoter  eventually  withdrew 
his  suggestion,  as  it  was  justly  felt  that  such  a  mo- 
tion would  interfere  with  the  liberty  of  the  subject 
too  much.  But  a  storm  of  cheers  burst  forth  when 
it  was  proposed  to  transfer  the  diamond-safe  from 
Werstein's  keeping  to  a  corner  of  the  new  goddess's 
shrine. 

Even  Satan,  the  cat,  joined  in  the  general 
adoration,  and,  more  favoured  than  the  rest,  en- 
joyed at  times  a  chaste  salute  from  Miss  Mus- 
grave's  ripe-red  lips. 

Never,  in  so  short  a  space  of  time,  had  a  com- 
munity been  more  changed  for  the  better  than  was 
that  of  Big  Stone  Hole.  Never  had  woman's 


MARY    MUSGRAVE.  147 

humanising  influence  made  itself  more  clearly  felt. 
The  azure  cloud  of  blasphemy  that  hung  over  the 
workings  and  the  rest  of  the  camp  was  replaced 
again  by  the  normal  dust.  Each  man  tried  to 
beautify  the  inside  of  his  shanty  to  the  best  of  his 
means  and  ideas,  for  there  was  no  knowing  when 
the  only  "  she "  would  take  it  into  her  pretty, 
capricious  head  to  pay  a  call.  In  this  latter  line 
the  Scholar  had  a  decided  pull.  Education  had 
taught  him  taste ;  necessity,  handiness ;  and  by  aid 
of  the  two  he  transformed  his  rude  dwelling  into 
something  approaching  the  rooms  in  which  he 
used  to  dawdle  away  the  happy  hours,  time  ago. 
It  was  partly  drawing-room,  partly  curiosity-shop. 
Cups,  saucers,  and  spoons  appeared  as  if  by  magi- 
cians' call,  and  one  blazing  afternoon  the  news 
flashed  round  the  diamond-pits  that  Miss  Musgrave 
was  "  taking  afternoon  tea  with  the  Scholar."  But 
when  the  Scholar  saw  the  dismay  his  simple  act  had 
spread  around  him,  he  dissipated  it  with  a  kindly 
laugh  and  a  few  reassuring  words. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  boys.  I  was  only  doing  the 
civil  in  a  purely  platonic  manner.  Miss  Mus- 
grave is  nothing  to  me,  nor  am  I  anything  to  her. 
Heaven  forbid!  I  'm  too  hard  a  bargain  for  any 
girl.  If  any  one  of  you  marries  her  I  '11  act  as  his 
best  man  if  he  asks  me  to,  and  wish  him  every 
felicity  without  a  thought  of  regret." 

"Bully  for  the  Scholar!"  yelled  the  delighted 
crowd ;  and  Miss  Musgrave's  smiles  were  more 
sought  after  than  ever. 


148  MARY   MUSGRAVE. 

So  things  went  on  day  after  day,  week  after 
week,  till  Miss  Musgrave  became  little  short  of  an 
autocratic  empress.  But  still  she  showed  no  signs 
of  taking  unto  herself  a  consort ;  she  kept  all  men 
at  a  cousinly  distance,  and  those  who  felt  intimate 
enough  to  address  her  as  "  Miss  Mary  "  accounted 
themselves  uncommonly  fortunate.  Thus  the  little 
machine  of  state  worked  perfectly  harmoniously, 
and  Big  Stone  Hole  was  as  steady  and  prosperous 
a  settlement  as  need  be. 

Had  these  diggers  refreshed  their  minds  by  look- 
ing back  for  historical  parallels,  they  might  have 
been  prepared  in  some  degree  for  Miss  Musgrave's 
exit  from  among  them,  but  as  none  of  them  in- 
dulged in  such  retrospections  the  manner  of  it  took 
the  camp  somewhat  by  surprise. 

It  was  first  discovered  in  this  wise.  Work  was 
over  for  the  day.  The  Kaffirs  had  been  searched 
and  had  returned  to  their  kraal.  Pipes  were  being  lit 
after  the  evening  meal,  and  a  picturesque  assembly 
was  grouping  itself  in  an  expectant  semicircle  on 
the  sun-baked  turf  in  front  of  Miss  Musgrave's 
dwelling.  She  was  usually  outside  to  welcome  the 
first  comers,  and  her  absence  naturally  formed  the 
staple  topic  of  conversation.  Digger  after  digger 
arrived,  threw  himself  down,  and  joined  in  the 
general  wonderment  as  to  why  Miss  Mary  was  n't 
there,  and  at  last  some  one  hazarded  a  suggestion 
that  she  "  must  be  asleep."  There  was  a  general 
epidemic  of  noisy  coughing  for  a  full  minute,  and 
then  silence  for  another,  but  no  sound  from  within 
the  hut. 


MARY   MUSGRAVE.  149 

"  Perhaps  she  's  ill,"  was  the  next  surmise. 

After  the  etiquette  to  be  followed  had  been 
strictly  discussed,  and  a  rigid  course  of  procedure 
set  down,  the  Scholar  got  up  and  knocked  at  the 
door.  He  received  no  answer,  and  so  knocked 
again — knocked  several  times,  in  fact,  and  then 
rattled  the  handle  vigorously,  but  without  result. 

"  Better  open  it,"  said  a  voice. 

And  he  did  so;  and  after  looking  inside,  an- 
nounced : 

"  She  's  not  there." 

At  this  moment  Dan  came  up. 

"  My  ole  mar'  's  gone,"  he  said ;  "  an'  she  ain't 
stampeded,  neither,  but  was  stole.  Tote-rope  's 
been  untied,  an'  saddle  an'  bridle  took  as  well." 

There  was  uncomfortable  silence,  which  the 
Scholar  broke  by  a  low,  long-drawn  whistle. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  let 's  look  inside  the  safe." 

The  three  men  who  held  the  keys  brought  them 
up,  the  bolts  were  shot,  and  the  massive  door 
swung  back.  There  was  every  man's  little  sack 
with  his  name  on  it ;  but  somehow  or  other  the 
sacks  looked  limper  than  of  yore.  Each  one  was 
eagerly  clutched  and  examined,  and  many  a  groan 
and  not  a  few  curses  went  up  on  the  still  night  air 
as  it  was  found  that  every  sack  save  Dan's  had 
been  relieved  of  the  more  valuable  part  of  its  con- 
tents. 

So  much  heart-breaking  labour  under  the  burn- 
ing sun  thrown  away  for  nothing  ;  the  dreary  work 
to  commence  afresh,  almost  from  the  beginning! 
Had  the  thief  been  any  ordinary  one,  the  de- 


155  MARY    MiJSGRAVE. 

nunciation  would  have  been  unbounded ;  but  no 
one  lifted  his  tongue  very  loudly  against  Mary 
Musgrave.  Yet  mounted  men  were  despatched 
on  the  three  trails  to  bring  back  the  booty  if  pos- 
sible, and  the  rest  moved  dejectedly  toward  their 
old  club.  The  greasy  Jew  did  not  attempt  to  con- 
ceal his  exultation.  He  served  his  customers  with 
his  wicked  old  face  glowing  with  smiles,  and  when 
a  moment's  breathing-time  came  he  observed : 

"  We  all  'az  our  leetle  surbrizes  in  dis  wairld,  an' 
I  most  confaiss  I  am  asdonished  myself  to  lairn  dat 
Mess  Mosgrave  is  a  thief — "  But  here  a  crashing 
among  the  glassware  announced  that  Tommy 
Dartmoor  had  begun  shooting  with  his  left  hand, 
and  Herr  Gustav  spluttered  out  from  behind  the 
fingers  he  held  before  his  face,  "  Ach  Gott !  I  say 
nozzing  more ! " 


GREGORIO 

BY 

ARTHUR  HEMINGWAY 


GREGORIO 

BY  ARTHUR   HEMINGWAY 

I 
AT   THE    PARADISO 

Cafe"  Paradise  was  full  of  people,  for  the 
inhabitants  of  Alexandria  had  dined,  and  the 
opera  season  was  over.  The  seats  at  every  table 
were  occupied,  and  the  fumes  of  smoke  from  a 
hundred  cigars  partly  hid  the  ladies  of  the  orches- 
tra. As  the  waiters  pushed  aside  the  swing-doors 
of  the  buffet  and  staggered  into  the  salon  with 
whisky,  absinthe,  and  coffee,  the  click  of  billiard- 
balls  was  heard.  The  windows  facing  the  sea  were 
wide  open,  for  the  heat  was  intense,  and  the  mur- 
mur of  the  waves  mingled  with  the  plaintive  voices 
of  the  violins. 

Seated  by  a  table  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall, 
Gregorio  Livadas  hummed  softly  an  accompani- 
ment to  Suppers  "  Poete  et  Paysan,"  puffing  from 
time  to  time  a  cloudlet  of  blue  smoke  from  his 
mouth.  When  the  music  ceased  he  joined  in  the 
applause,  leaning  back  happily  in  his  chair  as  the 
musicians  prepared  to  repeat  the  last  movement. 
Meanwhile  his  eyes  wandered  idly  over  the  faces 
of  his  neighbours. 


154  GREGORIO. 

When  the  last  chord  was  struck  he  saw  the 
women  hurry  down  from  the  platform  and  rush 
toward  the  tables  where  their  acquaintances  sat. 
He  heard  them  demand  beer  and  coffee,  and  they 
drank  eagerly,  for  fiddling  in  that  heat  was  thirsty 
work.  He  watched  the  weary  waiters  hastening 
from  table  to  table,  and  he  heard  the  voices  around 
him  grow  more  animated  and  the  laughter  more 
frequent.  One  man  was  fastening  a  spray  of  flow- 
ers on  the  ample  bosom  of  the  flautiste,  while  an- 
other sipped  the  brown  lager  from  the  glass  of  the 
big  drum,  and  the  old  wife  of  the  conductor  left 
her  triangle  and  cymbals  to  beg  some  roses  from 
an  Arab  flower-girl.  Truly  the  world  was  enjoy- 
ing itself,  and  Gregorio  smiled  dreamily,  for  the 
sight  of  so  much  gaiety  pleased  him.  He  wished 
one  of  the  women  would  come  and  talk  to  him ; 
he  would  have  liked  to  chat  with  the  fair-haired 
girl  who  played  the  first  violin  so  well.  He  began 
to  wonder  why  she  preferred  that  ugly  Englishman 
with  his  red  face  and  bald  head.  He  caught 
snatches  of  their  conversation.  Bah!  how  unin- 
teresting it  was !  for  they  could  barely  understand 
each  other.  What  pleasure  did  she  find  in  listening 
to  his  bad  French?  and  in  her  native  Hungarian 
he  could  not  even  say,  "  I  love."  Why  had  she  not 
come  to  him,  Gregorio  Livadas,  who  could  talk  to 
her  well  and  would  not  mumble  like  an  idiot  and 
look  red  and  uncomfortable!  Then  he  saw  she 
was  drinking  champagne,  and  he  sighed.  Ah,  yes, 
these  English  were  rich,  and  women  only  cared  for 


GREGORIO.  155 

money ;  they  were  unable  to  give  up  their  luxuries 
for  the  sake  of  a  man. 

But  at  this  thought  Gregorio  blushed  a  little. 
After  all,  there  was  one  woman — the  only  woman 
he  ought  to  think  of — who  was  not  afraid  of  hard- 
ship for  the  sake  of  her  husband.  He  tried  to  ex- 
cuse himself  by  arguing  that  the  music  had  excited 
him ;  but  he  felt  a  little  ashamed,  and  as  a  sop  to 
his  not  yet  quite  murdered  conscience  got  up  and 
left  the  cafe". 

When  he  turned  into  the  Place  Mehemet  Ali  he 
remembered  suddenly  that  he  had  wasted  his  even- 
ing. It  was  ten  o'clock,  too  late  to  set  about  the 
business  he  had  intended.  He  was  angry  with 
himself  now  as  well  as  ashamed.  He  wandered 
up  and  down  the  square,  looking  at  the  statue  of 
the  great  khedive,  silhouetted  against  the  moon- 
light, and  cursed  at  his  misfortunes. 

Why  should  he,  Gregorio  Livadas,  be  in  need 
of  money?  He  had  worked  hard,  but  without 
success.  He  could  have  borne  his  ill  luck  had  he 
alone  been  the  sufferer,  but  he  must  consider  his 
child — and,  of  course,  his  wife  too.  He  was  really 
fond  of  his  wife  in  a  way.  But  he  smiled  proudly 
as  he  thought  of  his  son,  for  whom  he  schemed  out 
a  great  future.  He  and  Xantippe  would  train  the 
boy  so  carefully  that  he  would  grow  up  to  be  a 
great  man,  and,  what  was  more,  a  rich  man.  How 
they  would  laugh,  all  three,  as  they  sat  in  the 
splendid  cafe's  over  their  wine,  at  the  hardships 
the  father  had  endured !  Still  he  must  not  forget 


156  GfcEGOfetO. 

the  present,  and  he  sorely  needed  money.  He 
would  go  to  Amos  again.  Amos  was  a  rich  man, 
very  rich,  and  a  filthy  Jew.  Amos  could  easily 
spare  him  some  money  and  renew  the  last  loan. 
He  was  going  to  be  successful  now  and  would  be 
able  to  pay  good  interest.  What  better  investment 
could  Amos  have?  Surely  none.  He  was  going 
to  set  up  a  cafe"  with  the  money  at  Tanta,  or  Zaga- 
zig,  or  even  Benhur,— yes,  Benhur  was  the  best,— 
where  there  were  few  competitors.  Then  he 
would  make  a  fortune,  as  other  Greeks  had  done, 
and  Amos  would  be  paid  in  full.  He  was  not  ex- 
travagant, no ;  he  had  the  business  instincts  of  his 
race.  Half  these  rich  merchants  of  Alexandria 
had  begun  as  he  would  begin ;  he  would  succeed 
as  they  had  succeeded.  The  future  was  really 
hopeful,  if  he  could  only  borrow  a  little  capital. 

With  these  thoughts  surging  through  his  brain 
Gregorio  paced  up  and  down  the  pavements. 
At  last  he  turned  into  the  Rue  des  Sceurs  and 
started  slowly  toward  his  home. 

This  street,  the  sink  of  Alexandria,  was  at  its 
gayest.  The  caf6s  where  cheap  liquor  is  sold 
were  crowded.  Soldiers  and  sailors,  natives  and 
the  riffraff  of  half  a  dozen  nations,  jostled  one 
another.  The  twanging  of  guitars  and  the  tinkling 
of  pianos  was  heard  from  every  house.  Women, 
underclothed  and  overpainted,  leaned  from  the 
upper  windows  and  made  frequent  sallies  into  the 
street  to  capture  their  prey.  Loud  voices  sang 
lusty  English  choruses  and  French  chansonnettes, 


GREGORIO.  157 

and  Neapolitan  songs  tried  to  assert  themselves 
whenever  the  uproar  ceased  for  a  moment.  Every 
one  talked  his,  or  her,  own  tongue,  and  gesture 
filled  in  the  gaps  when  words  were  wanting.  All 
seemed  determined  to  degrade  themselves  as  much 
as  possible,  and  nearly  every  one  seemed  supremely 
happy. 

Occasionally  there  was  a  fight,  and  knives  were 
used  with  unerring  skill;  but  the  mounted  police 
who  patrolled  the  streets,  though  overtaxed,  man- 
aged to  preserve  a  certain  amount  of  order. 

Gregorio  took  very  little  notice  of  the  scenes 
through  which  he  passed.  He  knew  every  inch 
and  corner  of  the  quarter  that  had  been  his  home 
for  years,  and  was  familiar  with  most  of  its  in- 
habitants. He  sighed  a  little  as  he  thought  of  the 
money  being  lost  and  won  in  the  stuffy  ill-lighted 
rooms  at  the  back  of  the  houses,  shut  out  from 
view  of  the  authorities.  Like  most  of  his  race,  he 
was  fond  of  the  excitement  of  gambling.  But  of 
what  use  were  regrets  and  sighs?  he  had  no  money, 
and  must  needs  go  home.  It  was  vain  to  try  and 
borrow  or  to  ask  credit  for  his  losses:  in  these 
gambling  hells  what  is  lost  must  be  immediately 
paid,  for  tempers  are  inflamed  by  drink  and  knives 
are  worn  at  each  player's  belt. 

But  he  sighed,  none  the  less,  at  the  hard  neces- 
sity that  compelled  him  to  pass  down  the  street 
without  once  entering  the  doors  of  a  tavern.  It 
was  very  hot,  and  he  had  smoked  many  cigarettes. 
He  would  have  been  glad  to  call  for  a  drink.  The 


158  GREGORIO. 

tavern-keepers,  though  they  were  his  friends,  ex- 
pected to  be  paid.  One  or  two  women  beckoned 
to  him,  who  would  have  willingly  offered  him  wine, 
but  he  was  proud  enough  to  ignore  them. 

He  became  more  moody  and  dejected  as  he 
went  along,  silent  and  sober  amid  so  much  revelry. 
When  he  reached  his  house  he  saw  a  drunken  man 
lying  on  the  threshold  asleep.  He  stooped  to  look 
into  his  face  and  recognised  an  Englishman,  the 
foreman  of  some  tramp  in  the  harbour.  He  kicked 
the  recumbent  form  testily  as  he  strode  over  it. 

"These  English,  what  beasts  they  are!"  he 
growled,  "and  I — I  have  not  a  piastre  for  a 
single  glass  of  wine." 


ii 

CONCERNING    A    DEBT 

GREGORIO  found,  on  entering  his  house,  that  his 
wife  was  already  in  bed.  He  went  into  the  tiny 
kitchen  and  saw  a  plate  of  macaroni  ready  for  his 
supper.  He  tried  to  eat  some,  but  it  stuck  in  his 
throat.  He  took  a  bottle  of  cheap  Cretan  wine 
from  a  shelf  and  drank  from  it ;  but  the  wine  was 
sour,  and  he  spat  it  from  his  mouth  with  a  curse. 

Taking  up  the  lamp,  he  went  into  the  bedroom. 
His  wife  was  fast  asleep  with  the  boy  in  her  arms. 
For  a  moment  a  smile  flickered  round  Gregorio's 
mouth  as  he  looked  at  them.  Then  he  took  off  his 
boots  and  his  coat,  blew  out  the  lamp,  and  lay  be- 


GREGORIO.  1 59 

side  them.  He  was  very  tired  after  his  long  tramp 
in  the  hot  streets,  but  he  could  not  sleep.  Angrily 
he  tossed  from  side  to  side  and  closed  his  eyes 
tightly ;  but  it  was  no  good,  sleep  would  not  come. 

At  midnight  he  heard  the  call  to  prayer  chanted 
from  the  minaret  of  a  tiny  mosque  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. The  muezzin's  voice  irritated  him. 
He  did  not  wish  to  pray,  and  he  did  want  to 
sleep.  He  swore  that  it  was  insanity  for  these 
fools  of  Mohammedans  to  declare  that  prayer  was 
better  than  sleep. 

Then  the  thoughts  that  had  agitated  him  during 
the  walk  returned  to  him.  The  Rue  des  Sceurs 
was  still  noisy  with  merry-makers,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  if  he  could  only  join  them  he  would  be 
happy.  But  he  had  no  money,  and  one  can  do 
nothing  without  money! 

Then  there  came  back  to  him  the  face  of  the 
Englishman  he  had  seen  talking  to  the  violinist  of 
the  Paradiso.  He  hated  the  man  because  he  was 
ugly  and  rich.  These  English  were  all  rich,  and 
yet  they  seemed  to  him  a  miserable  race,  mere 
ignorant  bullies.  He  remembered  how  often  he 
had  come  to  the  help  of  the  English  travellers  who 
filled  Egypt.  Why  had  he,  he  asked  himself,  for 
the  sake  of  a  miserable  reward,  prevented  them  be- 
ing cheated,  when  he,  with  all  his  talents,  was  con- 
demned to  starve?  Even  his  child,  he  thought, 
would  grow  to  hate  him  if  he  remained  poor. 
He  must  get  money.  Amos  would  have  to  lend 
him  some.  The  Jews  were  unpopular  among  the 


160  GREGORIO. 

Greeks ;  it  were  wise  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
them,  as  Amos  would  find  out. 

At  last  he  fell  asleep. 

In  the  morning  his  troubles  began  again.  There 
was  no  coffee,  and  only  a  little  Arab  bread,  and 
when  that  was  done  they  must  starve  if  they  could 
not  get  some  money.  Gregorio  tore  off  a  bit  of 
bread  and  ate  it  slowly,  looking  at  his  wife,  who  sat 
weeping  beside  him. 

"  I  shall  go  to  Amos,"  he  said,  firmly. 

"Ah,  yes,  to  Amos,"  Xantippe  answered,  quietly ; 
"  but  it  will  be  no  good." 

"Why  no  good?" 

"  Because  you  owe  him  money,  and  he  will  give 
you  no  more  till  he  is  paid." 

"  But  we  cannot  pay  him.  He  must  let  us  have 
some.  If  not—"  and  Gregorio  raised  his  hand 
threateningly. 

His  wife  smiled  sadly  and  kissed  him. 

"  You  will  not  frighten  Amos,  my  love.  When 
I  told  him  the  child  had  been  ill,  he  only  laughed." 

"When  was  that?" 

"  Yesterday." 

"Then  he  has  been  here?  " 

"He  came  last  night  to  ask  for  his  money.  I 
told  him  we  had  none,  and  he  laughed  and  said 
we  must  get  some.  He  told  me  I  might  get  some 
if  I  cared  to.  He  said  I  could  make,  oh,  so 
much!" 

Gregorio  scowled  savagely.  "  The  filthy  Jew ! 
he  said  that?  Never,  never,  never! " 


GREGORIO.  l6l 

"But  we  must  get  some  money,"  the  woman 
sobbed,  "if  only  for  our  son's  sake,  Gregorio. 
But  not  that  way?" 

"  No,  not  that  way,"  he  replied,  savagely. 

"When  shall  you  go  to  him?  " 

"  Now." 

And  taking  up  his  hat  he  rushed  into  the  street. 
He  was  terribly  angry,  not  so  much  at  the  purport 
of  the  Jew's  speech  as  at  the  man  who  made  it. 
He  loathed  the  Jews,  and  felt  insulted  when 
spoken  to  by  one ;  it  was  a  terrible  matter  to  ask 
this  man  for  help,  but  it  was  intolerable  that  his 
wife  should  suffer  insult.  And  yet  the  child  must 
be  fed.  Yes,  she  had  said  that,  and  it  was  true. 
They  must  make  sacrifices  for  the  child. 

He  soon  reached  the  Jew's  house,  and  was 
shown  by  a  richly  clad  servant  into  the  room 
where  Amos  sat.  Amos  was  an  old  man,  tall  and 
strong,  with  a  long  bushy  beard,  in  which  his 
fingers  continually  played ;  and  his  eyes  were  sharp 
and  brilliant  and  restless,  a  strange  contrast  to  his 
stately  bearing  and  measured  movements.  He 
rose  from  his  cushions  as  Gregorio  entered,  and 
saluted  him  courteously,  motioning  him  to  a  seat. 
Then,  having  resettled  himself,  he  clapped  his 
hands  together  smartly  and  ordered  the  servant 
who  answered  the  summons  to  bring  in  coffee  and 
pipes. 

Gregorio  was  rather  overawed  at  the  luxury  he 
saw  around  him,  and  he  felt  the  stern-looking, 
polite  old  man  would  be  a  difficult  person  to  deal 


1 62  GREGORIO. 

with.  As  he  puffed  at  his  tube  he  considered  care- 
fully what  words  he  should  use. 

For  some  time  neither  spoke,  but  Amos  was  the 
first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  You  heard  I  was  at  your  house  last  night,  and 
so  have  come  at  once  to  pay  me?  " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  you  were  at  my  house  and  that 
you  wanted  to  be  paid.  You  are  a  rich  man,  and 
I  am  poor." 

"  Nay,  I  am  not  rich ;  they  lie  who  say  I  am 
rich." 

"  It  is  twenty  pounds  I  owe  you,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Yes,  twenty  pounds.  It  is  a  large  sum,  and 
I  have  dealt  generously  with  you.  I  am  now  in 
need  of  it  myself." 

"  I  am  a  poor  man." 

"You  have  not  the  money,  eh,  my  friend?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  money.  But  I  will  pay  you  if 
you  will  lend  me  some  more.  I  shall  be  success- 
ful now ;  only  twenty  pounds  more." 

Amos  appeared  unmoved  at  the  tremor  in 
Gregorio's  voice.  His  eyes  rested  coldly  on  the 
face  of  his  client,  while  the  unfortunate  Greek  con- 
tinued to  speak  rapidly  of  his  troubles  and  hopes. 
He  smiled  sarcastically  as  Gregorio  spoke  of  the 
certainty  of  making  his  fortune  at  Benhur,  and  re- 
mained quite  unmoved  at  the  story  of  the  sufferings 
of  a  woman  and  child  from  hunger  and  want. 

"Your  wife  is  beautiful,"  was  all  he  answered 
when  Gregorio  paused  for  a  moment.  At  these 
words,  however,  he  half  rose  from  his  place  and 


GREGORIO.  163 

clinched  his  hands  savagely.  But  he  sank  back 
again  with  the  remembrance  that  a  show  of  temper 
would  not  advance  his  cause. 

"  Very  beautiful,"  he  answered,  chokingly ; 
"would  you  see  her  starve?" 

"  She  is  not  my  wife,"  said  Amos,  quietly.  Then 
he  continued  slowly,  pausing  at  intervals  to  puff  out 
a  cloud  of  smoke  from  his  mouth : 

"  You  have  owed  me  this  money  a  long  time.  I 
want  it,  and  I  will  have  it.  Even  in  Egypt  there 
is  law.  You  do  not  like  us  Jews,  but  the  law  will 
protect  me  as  long  as  I  am  rich  enough  to  buy 
justice.  In  three  days  you  will  pay  me  this 
money.  I  have  been  generous  to  you ;  now  I  will 
be  generous  no  longer.  If  I  am  not  paid  I  will 
take  measures  to  recover  my  loss.  You  will  sleep 
in  the  streets  like  the  Arabs,  my  friend ;  but  the 
weather  is  warm.  It  is  early  summer,  so  you  will 
scarcely  feel  the  exposure.  In  three  days  you  will 
come  and  pay  me." 

"But  how  am  I  to  get  the  money?  If  you 
would  lend  me  only  a  few  pounds  I  would  repay 
you  all  I  owe." 

"  Already  you  owe  me  more  than  you  can  pay. 
You  can  make  money.  You  are  married.  These 
Christian  women  are  worse  than  the  Arabs ;  do  I 
not  see  them  as  I  come  home  in  the  evening  from 
my  business?  It  is  not  right  to  borrow  and  not 
repay.  I  need  my  money.  How  can  I  have  my 
coffee  and  my  pipe  unless  I  have  money?  " 

Gregorio  listened  with  growing  anger,  and  finally 


164  GREGORIO. 

rose  from  his  seat  and  shook  his  fist  in  the  old  man's 
face. 

"  You  shall  be  paid,"  he  shouted,  "  you  shall  be 
paid!" 

"  Anger  is  useless,  my  friend." 

And  as  Gregorio  left  the  house  Amos  smiled  and 
stroked  his  beard.  "  Truly,"  he  thought,  "  these 
Christians  hate  us,  but  we  have  them  in  our  power. 
It  is  pleasant  to  be  hated  and  yet  to  know  that  it 
is  to  us  they  must  cringe  when  they  are  in  need ;  and 
it  is  very  pleasant  to  refuse.  My  friend  Gregorio  is 
not  happy  now  that  he  is  struggling  in  my  grasp." 

As  for  Gregorio,  he  wandered  away  toward  the 
harbour,  kicking  savagely  at  the  refuse  scattered 
along  the  pavement.  He  did  not  know  how  to  set 
about  earning  the  requisite  sum.  It  was  no  good 
applying  to  the  hotels  or  tourist  agencies,  for  there 
were  few  visitors  in  the  city  and  dragomen  were 
therefore  not  needed. 

His  friends  were  too  poor  to  help  him,  and  the 
consul  was  unable  to  do  much  for  him,  there  were 
so  many  poor  Greeks  who  wanted  help.  Mean- 
while there  was  no  food  at  home  and  no  drink ; 
even  the  necessaries  of  life  were  lacking. 

On  arriving  at  his  home  he  found  his  wife  and 
child  huddled  in  a  corner  crying  for  food.  They 
ran  toward  him  as  he  entered,  but  the  hope  in 
their  faces  quickly  faded  at  sight  of  him. 

"  It 's  no  good,"  Gregorio  growled ;  "  Amos  re- 
fuses to  advance  a  piastre  and  says  I  must  pay  all 
I  owe  in  three  days." 


GREGORIO.  165 

"  It  is  impossible  to  sleep  when  one  is  hungry," 
said  Gregorio  that  night  to  his  wife,  who  lay  awake, 
weeping,  beside  him. 


in 

OF    FAILURE    AND   A    RESOLVE 

GREGORIO'S  dreams,  when  he  did  sleep,  were 
none  of  the  pleasantest,  and  when  he  woke  up, 
from  time  to  time,  he  heard  his  wife  weeping.  In 
wondering  what  he  should  say  to  comfort  her  he 
fell  asleep  again,  and  sleeping  was  worse  than  ly- 
ing awake.  For  in  his  dreams  he  saw  Xantippe 
and  his  child  starving  and  crying  for  food,  and  he 
was  unable  to  help  them  in  any  way.  He  lived 
over  again  the  long  day  he  had  spent  tramping  the 
streets  of  Alexandria  searching  for  work.  He  saw 
the  few  tourists  still  left  in  the  town  fat  and  happy ; 
he  saw  the  porters  of  the  hotels  who  had  smiled 
on  him  pityingly  and  yet  contemptuously;  and 
he  woke,  after  each  representation  of  the  crude 
comedy,  hot  and  yet  cold  with  perspiration,  to 
feel  the  bed  on  which  he  lay  shaking  under  the 
sobs  of  his  wife. 

When  at  last  day  dawned  Gregorio  raised  him- 
self with  an  oath,  and  swore  to  find  food  for  his 
family  and  work  for  himself.  The  terrible  debt 
he  owed  to  Amos  he  swore  should  not  trouble 
him,  laughing  at  his  wife's  remonstrances.  With 
the  bright  daylight  had  come  a  new  courage,  and, 


1 66  GREGORIO. 

hungry  as  lie  was,  he  felt  able  not  only  to  satisfy 
their  hunger,  but  so  skilfully  to  arrange  matters 
that  they  would  never  feel  hungry  again.  Yet  it 
was  a  terrible  ordeal,  that  half -hour  when  the  fam- 
ily should  have  sat  down  to  a  table  laden  with 
food.  The  poor  wife  cried,  and  he  had  to  com- 
fort her  tears  with  promises,  unsubstantial  nutri- 
ment indeed,  and  they  could  not  satisfy  the  child, 
who  failed  dismally  to  understand  them.  Through 
the  green  blinds  came  the  noise  of  life  and  health 
and  merriment ;  curses  too,  sometimes,  but  only 
the  curses  of  the  well  fed,  and  therefore  meaning- 
less. Aready  the  sun  fell  hot  and  indomitable  on 
all  things ;  its  long  gold  shadowy  fingers  crept  into 
the  room,  and  the  atmosphere  at  their  touch  be- 
came stifling.  Gregorio,  swallowing  his  tears,  tore 
out  into  the  street,  shouting  up  the  narrow  stairway 
hysterical  words  of  hope. 

How  long  and  shadowless  the  street  seemed! 
Every  house  had  its  green  blinds  closely  shut ; 
the  wind  tha^  stirred  the  dust  of  the  pavements  was 
hot  and  biting.  Gregorio  clinched  his  hands  and 
strode  rapidly  onward.  What  mattered  it  to  him 
that  behind  those  green  blinds  women  and  men 
slumbered  in  comparative  comfort?  He  had  a 
work  to  do,  and  by  sunset  must  carry  good  tidings 
to  his  little  world.  For  a  time  his  heart  was  brave 
as  the  dry  wind  scorched  the  tear  upon  his  cheek. 
"  Surely,"  he  thought,  weaving  his  thoughts  into  a 
fine  marching  rhythm,  "  the  great  God  will  help 
me  now,  will  help  me  now." 


GREGORIO.  167 

At  midday,  after  he  had  tried,  with  that  strange 
Greek  pertinacity  that  understands  no  refusals,  all 
the  hotels  and  tourist  agencies  he  had  called  at  the 
day  before,  he  became  weary  and  disconsolate. 
The  march  had  become  a  dirge ;  no  longer  it  sug- 
gested happiness  to  be,  but  failure.  An  English- 
man threw  him  a  piastre,  and  he  turned  into  a 
cafe.  Calling  for  a  glass  of  wine,  he  flung  himself 
down  on  the  wooden  bench  and  tried  to  think.  But 
really  logical  thinking  was  impossible.  For  in  spite 
of  the  sorrow  at  his  heart,  the  same  bright  dreams 
of  wealth  and  happiness  came  back  to  mock  him. 
The  piastre  he  played  with  became  gold,  and  he 
felt  the  caf£  contained  no  luxuries  that  he  might 
not  command  to  be  brought  before  him.  But  as 
the  effects  of  the  red  wine  of  Lebanon  evaporated 
he  began  to  take  a  soberer  though  still  cheerful  view 
of  his  position.  It  was  only  when  the  waiter  car- 
ried off  his  piastre  that  he  suddenly  woke  to  fact 
and  knew  himself  once  more  a  man  with  a  wife  and 
child  starving  in  Alexandria,  an  alien  city  for  all  its 
wealthy  colony  of  Greeks.  A  wave  of  pity  swept 
over  him  ;  not  so  much  for  the  woman  was  he  sorry, 
though  he  loved  her  too,  but  for  the  baby  whose 
future  he  had  planned.  He  scowled  savagely  at 
the  inmates  of  the  cafe",  who  only  smiled  quietly, 
for  they  were  used  to  poor  Greeks  who  had  drunk 
away  their  last  coin,  and  pushed  past  them  into 
the  street. 

There  it  was  hotter  than  ever,  and  he  met 
scarcely  any  one.  Every  one  who  could  be  was 


1 68  GREGOR10. 

at  home,  or  in  the  cool  cafes ;  only  Gregorio  was 
abroad.  He  determined  to  make  for  the  quay. 
He  knew  that  many  ships  put  into  the  Alexandrian 
waters,  and  there  was  often  employment  found  for 
those  not  too  proud  to  work  at  lading  and  unload- 
ing. Quickly,  and  burning  as  the  kempsin,  he 
hurried  through  the  Rue  des  Soeurs,  not  daring  to 
look  up  at  the  house  wherein  he  dwelt.  The 
muffled  sounds  of  voices  and  guitars  from  the  far- 
away interiors  seemed  to  mock  his  footsteps  as  he 
passed  the  wine-shops ;  and  all  the  other  houses 
were  silent  and  asleep.  At  last  he  arrived  on  the 
quay,  and  the  black  lines  of  the  P.  and  O.  stood 
out  firmly  before  him  against  the  pitiless  blue  of 
sea  and  sky.  He  wandered  over  the  hot  stone 
causeway,  but  found  no  one.  The  revenue  officers 
were  away,  and  not  a  labourer,  not  a  sailor,  was 
visible.  Beyond  the  breakwater  little  tufts  of  sil- 
very foam  flashed  on  the  rollers,  and  a  solitary 
steamer  steered  steadily  for  the  horizon.  He 
could  see  the  Greek  flag  at  her  stern,  and  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  Ah,  how  little  his  friends  in 
Athens  thought  of  the  man  who  had  come  to  find 
fame  and  fortune  in  the  far-off  East !  He  sat  down 
on  the  parapet  and  watched  the  vessel  until  she  be- 
came a  tiny  speck  on  the  horizon,  and  then  he  re- 
commenced his  search  for  work.  His  heart  was 
braver  for  a  moment  because  of  its  pangs;  he 
swore  he  would  show  these  countrymen  of  his  who 
dwelt  at  home,  and  who  in  three  days  would  see 
the  very  ship  he  had  been  gazing  at  arrive  in 


Grecian  waters,  that  he  was  still  worthy  of  his 
country  and  his  kinsfolk. 

But  resolutions  were  useless,  tenacity  of  purpose 
was  useless.  For  two  long  hours  he  wandered  by 
the  harbour,  but  met  no  one. 

At  last  the  sun  fell  behind  the  western  waves, 
and  the  windows  of  the  khedive's  palace  glowed 
like  a  hundred  flaming  eyes ;  the  flags  fell  from  the 
masts  of  the  vessels ;  on  the  city  side  was  a  sudden 
silence,  save  for  the  melancholy  voices  of  the 
muezzins;  then  the  day  died;  the  bright  stars, 
suddenly  piercing  the  heavens,  mocked  him  with 
their  brilliance  and  told  him  that  his  useless  search 
for  bread  was  over. 

Gregorio  went  back  slowly  to  his  home.  Al- 
ready the  Rue  des  Soeurs  was  crowded.  The  long 
street  rang  with  music  and  laughter,  and  instead 
of  blinds  covering  the  windows  merry  women 
leaned  upon  the  sills  and  laughed  at  the  crowds 
below. 

Gregorio,  when  he  reached  his  house,  would 
have  liked  to  go  straight  to  bed.  But  it  was  not 
to  be,  for  as  he  entered  the  tiny  room  he  heard  his 
wife  trying  to  persuade  the  hungry  infant  into 
sleep,  and  his  footsteps  disturbed  her  tears.  He 
had  to  calm  them  as  best  he  could,  and  as  he 
soothed  her  he  noticed  the  child  had  a  crust  in  his 
hand  which  he  gnawed  half  contentedly.  At  the 
same  moment  the  dim  blue  figure  of  an  Arab 
passed  by  the  opposite  wall,  and  had  almost  gained 
the  door  ere  Gregorio  found  words. 


170  GREGORIO. 

"  Who  are  you?  " 

"  It  is  Ahmed,"  his  wife  answered,  gently,  plac- 
ing her  trembling  hand  upon  his  shoulder ;  "  he  too 
has  children." 

Gregorio  scowled  and  muttered,  "An  Arab,"  and 
in  that  murmur  none  of  the  loathing  was  hidden 
that  the  pseudo-West  bears  for  the  East. 

"The  child  was  starving,"  said  Ahmed.  "I 
have  saved  the  child;  maybe  some  day  I  shall 
save  the  father."  And  Ahmed  slipped  away  be- 
fore Gregorio  could  answer  him. 

For  a  while  neither  he  nor  his  wife  spoke ;  they 
stood  silent  in  the  moonlight.  At  last  Gregorio 
asked  huskily,  "  Have  you  had  food?  " 

"  Not  to-day,"  was  the  answer ;  and  the  sweet 
voice  was  almost  discordant  in  its  pathos  as  it  con- 
tinued, "  nor  drink,  and  but  for  Ahmed  the  boy 
had  died." 

Gregorio  could  not  answer ;  there  was  a  lump 
in  his  throat  that  blocked  words,  opening  the  gate 
for  sobs.  But  he  choked  down  his  emotion  with 
an  effort  and  busied  himself  about  the  room. 
Xantippe  sat  watching  him  anxiously,  smoothing 
with  nervous  fingers  the  covering  of  her  son's  bed. 

As  the  night  advanced  the  heat  increased,  and 
all  that  disturbed  the  silence  of  the  room  was  the 
echo  of  the  streets.  Gregorio  walked  to  the  win- 
dow and  looked  out.  Below  him  he  saw  the  jos- 
tling crowd  of  men  and  women.  These  people,  he 
thought,  were  happy,  and  two  miserables  only 
dwelt  in  the  city— his  wife  and  himself.  And 


GREGORIO.  171 

whenever  he  asked  himself  what  was  the  cause  of 
his  misery,  the  answer  was  ever  the  same — poverty. 
He  glanced  at  his  son,  tossing  uneasily  in  his  bed ; 
he  looked  at  his  wife,  pale  and  haggard  in  the 
moonlight ;  he  remembered  his  own  sufferings  all 
day  long  in  the  hot  cruel  streets,  and  he  spoke 
unsteadily : 

"  Xantippe?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  thought  over  things." 

"  And  I  too." 

"  We  are  starving, — you  are  starving,  and  I  am 
starving, — and  all  day  long  I  tramp  these  cursed 
streets,  but  gain  nothing.  So  it  will  go  on,  day  in, 
day  out.  Not  only  we  ourselves,  but  our  son  too 
must  die.  We  must  save  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Xantippe,  quietly,  repeating  her  hus- 
band's words  as  she  kissed  the  forehead  of  her 
child,  "  we  must  save  him." 

"  There  is  only  one  way." 

"  Only  one  way,"  repeated  Xantippe,  dreamily. 
There  was  a  pause,  and  then,  as  though  the  words 
had  grown  to  have  a  meaning  to  her  that  she 
could  not  fathom,  she  queried,  "What  way, 
Gregorio?  " 

"  That,"  he  said,  roughly,  as  he  caught  her  by 
the  wrist,  and,  dragging  her  to  the  window,  pointed 
to  the  women  in  the  street  beneath. 

Xantippe  hid  her  face  on  her  husband's  breast 
and  cried  softly,  while  she  murmured,  "  No,  no ;  I 
will  never  consent." 


172  GREGORIO. 

"  Then  the  child  will  die,"  answered  the  Greek, 
curtly,  flinging  her  from  him. 

And  the  poor  woman  cast  herself  upon  the  bed 
beside  her  boy,  and  when  her  tears  ceased  for  a 
moment  stammered,  "  When?  " 

"To-morrow,"  was  the  answer,  cruel  and  per- 
emptory. And  as  Gregorio  closed  the  lattice, 
shutting  out  the  noise  of  song  and  laughter,  the 
room  echoed  with  the  mighty  sobbing  of  a  woman 
who  was  betrayed,  and  who  repeated  hysterically, 
while  kissing  the  face  of  her  child,  "To-morrow, 
to-morrow  there  will  be  food  for  you." 

And  Gregorio  slept  peacefully,  for  the  danger  of 
starvation  was  over ;  he  would  yet  live  to  see  his 
son  become  rich. 

And  the  woman? 

He  kissed  her  before  he  slept,  and  women 
always  cry. 


IV 


CONCERNING   TWO    WOMEN 

GREGORIO  felt  a  little  bit  ashamed  of  himself 
next  morning.  The  excitement  had  passed,  and 
the  full  meaning  of  his  words  came  back  to  him 
and  made  him  shudder.  The  sun,  already  risen, 
sent  shafts  of  light  between  the  lips  of  the  wooden 
lattice.  A  faint  sound  of  life  and  movement  stole 
upward  from  the  street  below.  But  Xantippe  and 


GREGORIO.  173 

the  boy  still  slumbered,  though  the  woman's  form 
shook  convulsively  at  times,  for  she  sobbed  in  her 
sleep. 

Gregorio  looked  at  the  two  for  a  minute  and 
then  raised  himself  with  an  oath.  The  woman's 
heavy  breathing  irritated  him,  for,  after  all,  he 
argued,  it  was  her  duty  as  well  as  his  to  sacrifice 
herself  for  the  lad.  Moreover,  the  Jew  must  be 
paid,  and  to-day  was  that  appointed  by  Amos  for 
the  settling  of  their  account.  There  was  no  money 
to  pay  it  with,  and  they  must  lose  their  furniture, 
so  much  at  least  was  certain.  But  Amos  would 
not  have  the  best  of  the  bargain,  thought  the 
Greek  as  he  looked  round  the  room  with  a  grin, 
and  the  certainty  that  he  had  got  the  better  of 
Amos  for  the  moment  cheered  his  spirits.  Then, 
too,  after  to-day  there  would  be  plenty  to  eat,  for 
his  wife  could  manage  to  earn  money ;  nor  was  the 
man  so  mean  in  his  villainy  as  to  shirk  any  effort 
to  earn  money  himself.  After  first  looking  at  his 
wife  critically  and  with  a  satisfied  smile,  he  touched 
her  on  the  shoulder  to  wake  her. 

"  I  am  going  out  for  work,"  he  said,  as  Xantippe 
opened  her  eyes. 

"  All  right." 

"  Good-bye." 

But  Xantippe  answered  not.  She  turned  her 
face  to  the  wall  wearily  as  Gregorio  left  her. 

Entering  the  street  he  made  straight  for  Amos's 
house,  and  told  the  porter,  who  was  still  lying  on 
the  trestle  before  the  door,  that  he  could  not  pay 


1 74  GREGORIO. 

the  Jew's  bill.  Then,  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer, he  hurried  off  to  the  quay. 

With  better  luck  than  on  the  previous  day,  he 
managed  to  obtain  employment  for  some  hours. 
The  Greek  mail-boat  had  arrived,  and  under  the 
blazing  sun  he  toiled  good-humouredly  and  pa- 
tiently. The  work  was  hard,  but  it  gave  him  no 
opportunity  of  thinking.  He  had  to  be  continu- 
ally dodging  large  bales  of  fruit  and  wine,  and  if 
he  made  a  mistake  the  officer  on  duty  would  shout 
at  him  angrily,  "  Lazy  dog!  you  would  not  have 
left  Greece  were  you  not  an  idle  fellow."  Such 
words  wounded  his  pride,  and  he  determined  to  do 
so  well  that  he  should  earn  praise.  But  the  little 
officer,  his  bright  buttons  flashing  in  the  sunlight, 
who  smoked  quietly  in  the  intervals  of  silence, 
never  praised  anybody;  but  he  left  off  abusing 
Gregorio  at  last,  and  when  work  ceased  for  the 
day  bade  him  come  again  on  the  morrow. 

At  sunset  Gregorio  pocketed  his  few  hard-earned 
piastres  and  wandered  cityward.  He  did  not  care 
to  go  back  to  his  home,  for  he  knew  there  would 
be  miserable  stories  to  tell  of  the  Jew's  anger,  and, 
moreover,  he  was  terribly  thirsty.  So  he  went  into 
a  little  cafe — known  as  the  Penny-farthing  Shop — 
opposite  his  house  and  called  for  a  flask  of  kephisa. 
As  he  sipped  the  wine  he  glanced  up  nervously  at 
his  window  and  wondered  whether  his  wife  had  al- 
ready left  home.  Were  he  sure  that  she  had,  he 
would  leave  his  wine  untouched  and  hasten  to  look 
after  his  son  and  give  him  food.  But  until  he  knew 


GREGORIO.  175 

Xantippe  had  gone  he  would  not  move.  The  sobs 
of  yesterday  still  disturbed  him,  and  he  was  more 
than  once  on  the  point  of  cancelling  his  resolves. 
But  as  the  wine  stirred  his  blood  he  became  satis- 
fied with  what  he  had  done  and  said.  The  little 
cafe  at  Benhur  that  was  to  make  his  fortune  seemed 
nearly  in  his  grasp.  It  was  absurd,  he  argued,  to 
worry  over  trifles.  Had  he  not,  he  asked  himself, 
worked  all  day  without  a  murmur?  It  was  right 
Xantippe  should  help  him. 

As  he  sat  dreamily  thinking  over  these  things, 
and  watching  the  shadows  turn  to  a  darker  purple 
under  the  oil-lamps,  a  woman  spoke  to  him. 

"Well,  Gregorio,  are  you  asleep?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  turning  toward  his  questioner. 

The  woman  laughed.  She  was  a  big  woman, 
dressed  in  loose  folds  of  red  and  blue.  Her  hair 
was  dishevelled,  and  ornamented  with  brass  pins 
fastened  into  it  at  random.  Her  sleeves  were 
rolled  up  to  her  armpits,  and  she  had  her  arms 
akimbo— fat,  flabby  arms  that  shook  as  she 
laughed.  Her  eyes  were  almost  hidden,  she 
screwed  them  up  so  closely,  but  her  wide  mouth 
opened  and  disclosed  a  row  of  gigantic,  flawless 
teeth. 

Gregorio  frowned  as  he  looked  at  her.  He 
knew  her  well  and  had  never  liked  her.  But  he 
dare  not  quarrel  with  her,  for  he  owed  her  money, 
and  "  for  the  love  of  his  black  eyes,"  as  she  told 
him,  she  had  ever  a  bottle  of  wine  ready  for  him 
when  he  wished. 


I?  GREGORIO. 

"  Well,  my  good  woman,"  he  blurted  out,  surlily, 
"  you  seem  to  be  amused." 

"  I  am,  Gregorio.  Tell  me,"  she  continued,  slyly, 
seating  herself  beside  him  and  placing  her  elbows 
on  the  table,  "  how  is  she?  " 

"  Who?  " 

"  Xantippe.  She  came  to  me  to-day,  and  I  saw 
she  had  been  crying.  But  I  said  nothing,  because 
it  is  not  always  wise  to  ask  questions.  I  thought 
she  wept  because  she  was  hungry  and  because  the 
baby  was  hungry.  I  offered  her  food  and  she  took 
some,  but  so  little,  scarcely  enough  to  cover  a  ten- 
piastre  piece.  'That  is  for  the  baby,'  I  said; 
'  now  some  for  you.'  But  she  refused." 

"  Perhaps  she  had  food  for  herself,"  said  Gre- 
gorio, shifting  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  woman,  and  laughed  again, 
more  loudly  than  ever,  till  the  table  shook.  "  But 
she  asked  me  for  something  else,"  she  continued, 
when  her  merriment  languished  for  want  of  breath ; 
"  she  asked  me  to  let  her  have  an  old  dress  of  mine, 
a  bright  yellow-and-red  dress,  and  she  borrowed 
some  ornaments.  It  is  not  right  of  you,  Gregorio, 
to  keep  an  old  friend  on  the  door-step  when  you 
have  a  fantasia." 

Gregorio  scowled  savagely.  After  a  pause  he 
said,  "  I  don't  know  why  my  wife  wanted  your 
dress  and  ornaments." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  do,  friend  Gregorio."  And  she 
laughed  again,  this  time  a  suppressed,  chuckling 
laugh  that  threatened  to  choke  her ;  and  she  sup- 


GREGORIO.  177 

ported  her  chin  on  her  hands,  while  her  eyes  peered 
through  the  enveloping  fat  at  the  man  who  sat  op- 
posite to  her.  Suddenly  she  stood  up,  and  taking 
Gregorio  by  the  arm  dragged  him  to  the  door. 

"  See,  there  she  goes.  My  garments  are  cleverly 
altered  and  suit  her  finely,  don't  they?  Ah,  well, 
my  friend,  a  man  who  cannot  support  a  wife 
should  marry  a  woman  who  can  support  him." 

Gregorio  did  not  stop  to  answer  her,  but  pushed 
past  her  into  the  street.  The  woman  watched  him 
enter  the  house  opposite,  and  then  returned  quietly 
to  her  work.  But  there  was  a  smile  hovering 
round  her  lips  as  she  murmured  to  herself,  "Ah, 
well,  in  time." 

Gregorio  meanwhile  had  run  up  to  his  room  and 
entered  it  breathless  with  excitement.  The  first 
glance  told  him  that  Amos  had  seized  all  he  could, 
for  nothing  remained  save  a  wooden  bench  and  one 
or  two  coarse,  half-disabled  cooking  utensils. 

Gregorio  swore  a  little  as  he  realised  what  had 
happened.  Then  he  saw  in  a  corner  by  the  win- 
dow his  son  and  Ahmed. 

"  She  has  gone,"  said  Ahmed,  as  Gregorio's  gaze 
rested  on  him.  But  she  might  have  gone  merely 
to  market,  or  to  see  a  neighbour,  for  all  the  im- 
perturbable Arab  face  disclosed.  As  soon  as  he 
had  spoken  the  man  bent  over  the  child,  laughing 
softly  as  the  youngster  played  with  his  beard.  For 
the  Arab,  as  he  is  miscalled,  is  fond  of  children,  and 
there  are  none  to  whom  children  take  so  readily  as 
to  the  Egyptian  fellahin. 


178  GREGORIO. 

Gregorio  watched  the  two  for  a  moment,  and 
then  placing  his  remaining  piastres  in  the  man's 
hand  bade  him  bring  food  and  wine.  As  soon  as 
he  was  left  alone  with  his  son,  he  flung  himself 
down  on  the  floor  and  kissed  the  child  passion- 
ately, half  singing  to  himself,  "You  shall  be  a 
great  man,  ay,  a  rich  man,  my  son." 

He  repeated  the  sentence  over  and  over  again, 
punctuating  it  with  kisses,  while  the  two-year-old 
regarded  him  wonderingly,  until  Ahmed  returned. 

When  the  meal  was  ended  Gregorio  took  the  boy 
in  his  arms  and  sang  to  him  softly  till  at  last  the 
infant  slept.  Then  he  placed  him  gently  on  the 
floor,  having  first  made  of  his  coat  a  bed,  and 
went  to  the  window  and  flung  back  the  shutters. 
He  smoked  quietly  as  the  minutes  went  by,  wait- 
ing impatiently  for  his  wife  to  return.  It  seemed 
to  him  monstrous  that  the  boy  who  was  to  inherit 
a  fortune  should  be  sleeping  on  the  dirty  floor 
wrapped  in  an  old  coat;  that  an  Arab,  a  mere 
fellah,  should  amuse  his  son  and  play  with  him, 
when  Greek  nurses  were  to  be  hired  in  Alexandria 
had  one  only  the  money.  Long  after  midnight  he 
heard  a  step  on  the  stairs,  and  a  minute  after  the 
door  opened.  He  recognised  his  wife's  footsteps, 
and  he  rose  to  meet  her.  As  she  came  into  the 
room  she  looked  quickly  round,  and  seeing  her  son 
went  toward  him  and  kissed  him.  Gregorio,  half 
afraid,  stood  by  the  window  watching  her.  She 
let  her  glance  rest  on  him  a  minute,  then  she  turned 
round  and  laid  her  cloak  upon  the  floor. 


GREGORIO.  179 

"Xantippe!" 

But  she  did  not  answer. 

"  Xantippe,  I  have  fed  our  son.  The  good  days 
are  coming  when  we  shall  be  rich  and  happy." 

But  Xantippe  was  too  busy  folding  out  the 
creases  of  her  cloak  to  notice  him.  The  moon- 
light streamed  on  to  her,  and  her  face  shone  like 
an  angel's.  Gregorio  made  one  step  toward  her, 
ravished,  for  she  had  never  appeared  so  beautiful 
to  him.  For  the  moment  he  forgot  the  whole 
hideous  history  of  the  last  few  days  and  the  brief, 
horrible  conversation  of  the  night  before.  Fired 
with  a  desire  to  touch  her,  to  kiss  her,  to  whisper 
into  her  ear,  in  the  soft  Greek  speech,  all  the  en- 
dearments and  tendernesses  that  had  won  her  when 
he  wooed  her,  he  placed  his  hand  upon  her  arm. 
As  if  stung  by  a  venomous  snake,  the  woman  re- 
coiled from  his  touch.  With  a  quick  movement 
she  sprang  back  and  flung  at  his  face  a  handful  of 
gold  and  silver  coins. 

"  Take  them ;  they  're  yours,"  she  cried,  huskily, 
and  retreated  into  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room. 

With  a  savage  curse  Gregorio  put  his  hand  to 
his  lips  and  wiped  away  the  blood,  for  a  heavy  coin 
had  cut  him.  Then  he  ran  swiftly  downstairs,  and 
Xantippe,  as  she  lay  down  wearily  beside  her  boy, 
heard  a  woman  laugh. 


180  GREGORIO. 


XANTIPPE   LOOKS    OUT   OF   THE   WINDOW 

THE  Penny-farthing  Shop  was  full  of  customers, 
and  Madam  Marx,  the  fat  woman  who  followed 
Gregorio  to  the  bar,  was  for  a  long  time  busy  at- 
tending to  her  clients.  Some  English  war-ships 
had  entered  the  harbour  at  sunset,  and  many  of 
the  sailors  had  lost  no  time  in  seeking  out  their 
favourite  haunt.  Most  of  them  knew  Madam 
Marx  well,  as  a  good-natured  woman  who  gave 
them  plenty  to  drink  for  their  money,  and  secreted 
them  from  the  eyes  of  the  police  when  the  liquor 
overpowered  them.  Consequently  there  was  much 
laughter  and  shaking  of  hands,  and  many  a  rough 
jest,  which  Madam  Marx  responded  to  in  broken 
English.  Gregorio  watched  the  sailors  gloomily. 
He  hated  the  English,  for  even  their  sailors  seemed 
to  have  plenty  of  money,  and  he  recalled  the  rich 
Englishman  he  had  seen  at  the  Cafe  Paradise, 
drinking  champagne  and  buying  flowers  for  the 
Hungarian  woman  who  played  the  fiddle.  The 
scene  he  had  just  left  contrasted  disagreeably  with 
the  fun  and  jollity  that  surrounded  him.  But  he 
felt  unable  to  shake  off  his  gloom  and  annoyance, 
and  Madam  Marx's  attentions  irritated  him.  He 
felt  that  her  eyes  continually  rested  on  him,  that, 
however  busy  she  might  be,  he  was  never  out  of 
her  thoughts.  Every  few  minutes  she  would  come 


GREGORIO.  181 

toward  him  with  a  bottle  of  wine  and  fill  up  his 
glass,  saying, "  Come,  my  friend ;  wine  is  good  and 
will  drown  your  troubles."  And  though  he  resented 
her  patronage,  knowing  he  could  not  pay,  he  never- 
theless drank  steadily. 

Every  few  minutes  he  heard  the  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  on  the  hard  roadway,  and  through  the  win- 
dows he  saw  the  military  police  pass  slowly  on  their 
rounds. 

At  last  the  strong  drinks  so  amiably  retailed  by 
Madam  Marx  did  their  work,  and  the  men  lay 
about  the  floor  asleep  and  breathing  heavily.  The 
silence  succeeding  the  noise  startled  Gregorio  from 
his  sullen  humour.  Madam  Marx  came  and  sat 
beside  him,  weary  as  she  was  with  her  long  labours, 
and  talked  volubly.  The  wine  had  mounted  to  his 
head,  and  he  answered  her  in  rapid  sentences,  ac- 
companying his  words  with  gesture  and  grimace. 
What  he  talked  about  he  scarcely  knew,  but  the 
woman  laughed,  and  he  took  an  insane  delight  in 
hearing  her.  Just  before  daylight  he  fell  asleep, 
resting  his  head  on  his  arms,  that  were  spread 
across  the  table.  Madam  Marx  kissed  him  as  he 
slept,  murmuring  to  herself  contentedly, "  Ah,  well, 
in  time." 

When  Gregorio  woke  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens,  blazing  out  of  a  brazen  sky.  Clouds  of 
dust  swept  past  the  door  from  time  to  time,  and 
cut  his  neck  and  face  as  he  stood  on  the  threshold 
smoking  lazily.  It  was  too  late  to  go  down  to  the 
quay,  for  his  place  must  have  long  ago  been  filled 


1 82  GREGORIO. 

by  another.  He  was  not  sorry,  since  he  by  no 
means  desired  to  toil  again  under  the  hot  sun ;  the 
heavy  drinking  of  the  night  had  made  him  lethar- 
gic, and  he  was  so  thirsty  the  heat  nearly  choked 
him.  He  called  out  to  a  water-carrier  staggering 
along  in  the  scanty  shade  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  and  took  eagerly  a  draught  of  water. 
He  touched  the  pigskin  with  his  hand,  and  it  was 
hot.  The  water  was  warm  and  made  him  sick; 
he  spat  it  from  his  mouth  hastily,  and  hearing  a 
laugh  behind  him,  turned  round  and  saw  Madam 
Marx. 

"  See,  here  is  some  wine,  my  friend ;  leave  the 
water  for  the  Arabs." 

Gregorio  gratefully  seized  the  flagon  and  let 
the  wine  trickle  down  his  throat,  while  Madam 
Marx,  with  arms  akimbo,  stood  patiently  before 
him. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  back 
the  half-emptied  flask. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  must  get  some  work." 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  get  work  in  the  summer." 

"  I  know,  but  I  must  get  some.  I  owe  money 
to  Amos." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  your  wife  is  making  money 
now." 

The  man  scowled  at  her.  "  How  do  you  know 
that?  Before  God,  I  swear  that  she  is  not." 

"  Come,  come,  Gregorio.  You  were  drunk  last 
night,  and  your  tongue  wagged  pretty  freely.  It 's 


GREGORIO.  183 

not  a  bit  of  use  being  angry  with  me,  because  I 
only  know  what  you  've  told  me.  Besides,  I  'm 
your  friend,  you  know  that." 

Gregorio  flushed  angrily  at  the  woman's  words, 
but  he  knew  quite  well  it  was  no  use  replying  to 
them,  for  she  was  speaking  only  the  truth.  But 
the  knowledge  that  he  had  betrayed  his  secret  an- 
noyed him.  He  had  grown  used  to  the  facts  and 
could  look  at  them  easily  enough,  but  he  had  not 
reckoned  on  others  also  learning  them. 

He  determined  to  go  out  and  find  work,  or  at 
any  rate  to  tramp  the  streets  pretending  to  look 
for  something  to  do.  The  woman  became  intoler- 
able to  him,  and  the  Penny-farthing  Shop,  reeking 
with  the  odour  of  stale  tobacco  and  spilled  liquor, 
poisoned  him.  He  took  up  his  hat  brusquely  and 
stepped  into  the  street. 

Madam  Marx,  standing  at  the  door,  laughed  at 
him  as  she  called  out,  "  Good-bye,  Gregorio ;  when 
will  you  come  back?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  the  sound  of  her  laughter 
followed  him  up  the  street,  and  he  kicked  angrily 
at  the  stones  in  his  path. 

At  last  he  passed  by  the  Ras-el-Tin  barracks. 
He  looked  curiously  at  the  English  soldiers.  Some 
were  playing  polo  on  the  hard  brown  space  to  the 
left,  and  from  the  windows  of  the  building  men 
leaned  out,  their  shirt-sleeves  rolled  up  and  their 
strong  arms  bared  to  the  sun.  They  smoked  short 
clay  pipes,  and  innumerable  little  blue  spiral  clouds 
mounted  skyward.  Obviously  the  heat  did  not 


184  GREGORIO. 

greatly  inconvenience  them,  for  they  laughed  and 
sang  and  drank  oceans  of  beer. 

The  sight  of  them  annoyed  Gregorio.  He 
looked  at  the  pewter  mugs  shining  in  the  sunlight 
He  eyed  greedily  the  passage  of  one  from  hand 
to  hand ;  and  when  one  man,  after  taking  a  long 
pull,  laughed  and  held  it  upside  down  to  show  him 
it  was  empty,  he  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of 
anger,  and  shook  his  fist  impotently  at  the  soldiers, 
who  chaffed  him  good-naturedly.  As  he  went 
along  by  the  stables,  a  friendly  lancer,  pitying  him, 
probably,  too,  wearying  of  his  own  lonely  watch, 
called  to  him,  and  offered  him  a  drink  out  of  a 
stone  bottle.  Gregorio  drank  again  feverishly,  and 
handed  the  bottle  back  to  its  owner  with  a  grin, 
and  passed  on  without  a  word.  The  soldier 
watched  him  curiously,  but  said  nothing. 

When  he  reached  the  lighthouse  Gregorio  flung 
himself  on  to  the  pebble-strewn  sand  and  looked 
across  the  bay.  The  blue  water,  calm  and  unruffled 
as  a  sheet  of  glass,  spread  before  him.  The  ships 
— Austrian  Lloyd  mail-boats,  P.  and  O.  liners,  and 
grimy  coal-hulks — lay  motionless  against  the  white 
side  of  the  jetty. 

The  khedive's  yacht  was  bright  with  bunting, 
and  innumerable  fishing-boats  near  the  breakwater 
made  grateful  oases  in  the  glare  whereon  his  eyes 
might  rest.  But  he  heeded  them  not.  Angrily  he 
flung  lumps  of  stone  and  sand  into  the  wavelets 
at  his  feet,  and  pushed  back  his  hat  that  his  face 


GREGORIO.  185 

might  feel  the  full  heat  of  the  sun.  Then  he  lit  a 
cigarette  and  began  to  think. 

But  what  was  the  good  of  thinking?  The 
thoughts  always  formed  themselves  into  the  same 
chain  and  reached  the  same  conclusion ;  and  ever 
on  the  glassy  surface  of  the  Levantine  sea  a  woman 
poised  herself  and  laughed  at  him. 

When  the  sun  fell  behind  the  horizon,  and  the 
breakwater,  after  dashing  up  one  flash  of  gold, 
became  a  blue  blur,  Gregorio  rose  to  go.  As  he 
walked  back  toward  the  Penny-farthing  Shop  he 
felt  angry  and  unsatisfied.  The  whole  day  was 
wasted.  He  had  done  nothing  to  relieve  his  wife, 
nothing  to  pay  off  Amos.  Madam  met  him  at  the 
door,  a  flask  of  wine  in  her  hand.  Against  his  will 
Gregorio  entered  her  cafe"  and  smiled,  but  his  smile 
was  sour  and  malevolent. 

"  You  want  cheering,  my  friend,"  said  madam, 
laughing. 

"  I  have  found  nothing  to  do,"  said  Gregorio. 

"Ah!  I  told  you  it  would  be  hard.  There 
are  no  tourists  in  Alexandria  now.  And  it  is  fool- 
ish of  you  to  tramp  the  streets  looking  for  work 
that  you  will  never  find,  when  you  have  everything 
you  can  want  here." 

"  Except  money,  and  that 's  everything,"  put  in 
Gregorio,  bluntly. 

"  Even  money,  my  friend.  I  have  enough  for 
two." 

Madam  Marx  had  played  her  trump  card,  and 


1 86  GREGORIO. 

she  watched  anxiously  the  effect  of  her  words.  For 
a  moment  the  man  did  not  speak,  but  trifled  with 
his  cigarette  tobacco,  rolling  it  gently  between  his 
brown  fingers.  Then  he  said : 

"  You  know  I  am  in  debt  now,  and  I  want  to 
pay  off  all  I  owe,  and  leave  here." 

"  Yes,  that  's  true,  but  you  won't  pay  off  your 
debts  by  tramping  the  streets,  and  your  little  cafe 
at  Benhur  will  be  a  long  time  building,  I  fancy. 
Meanwhile  there  is  money  to  be  made  at  the 
Penny-farthing  Shop." 

"  What  are  your  terms?  "  asked  Gregorio,  roughly. 

The  woman  laughed,  but  did  not  answer.  The 
stars  were  shining,  and  the  kempsin  that  had  blown 
all  day  was  dead.  It  was  cool  sitting  outside  the 
door  of  the  cafe"  under  the  little  awning,  and  plea- 
sant to  watch  the  blue  cigarette  smoke  float  upward 
in  the  still  air.  Gregorio  sat  for  a  while  silent,  and 
the  woman  came  and  stood  by  him.  "  You  know 
my  terms,"  she  whispered,  and  Giegorio  smiled, 
took  her  hand,  and  kissed  her.  At  that  moment 
the  blind  of  the  opposite  house  was  flung  back. 
Xantippe  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  saw  them. 


VI 

BABY   AND   JEW 

WHEN  the  Penny-farthing  Shop  began  to  fill 
Gregorio  disappeared  quietly  by  the  back  door. 
He  muttered  a  half-unintelligible  answer  to  the 


GREGORIO.  187 

men  who  were  playing  cards  in  the  dim  parlour 
through  which  he  had  to  pass,  who  called  to  him 
to  join  them.  Gaining  the  street,  he  wandered 
along  till  he  reached  the  bazaars,  intending  to 
waste  an  hour  or  two  until  Xantippe  should  have 
left  the  house.  Then  he  determined  to  go  back 
and  see  the  boy  in  whom  all  his  hopes  and  ambi- 
tions were  centred,  who  was  the  unconscious  cause 
of  his  villainy  and  degradation. 

There  was  a  large  crowd  in  the  bazaars,  for  a 
Moolid  was  being  celebrated.  Jugglers,  snake- 
charmers,  mountebanks,  gipsies,  and  dancing-girls 
attracted  hundreds  of  spectators. 

The  old  men  sat  in  the  shadows  of  their  stalls, 
smoking  and  drinking  coffee.  They  smiled  gravely 
at  the  younger  people,  who  jostled  one  another 
good-humouredly,  laughing,  singing,  quarrelling 
like  children.  Across  the  roadway  hung  lamps  of 
coloured  glass  and  tiny  red  flags  stamped  with  a 
white  crescent  and  a  star.  Torches  blazed  at  in- 
tervals, casting  a  flickering  glow  on  the  excited 
faces  of  the  crowd. 

Gregorio  watched  without  much  interest.  He 
had  seen  a  great  many  fantasias  since  he  came  to 
Egypt,  and  they  were  no  longer  a  novelty  to  him. 
He  was  annoyed  that  a  race  of  people  whom  he 
despised  should  be  so  merry  when  he  himself  had 
so  many  troubles  to  worry  him.  He  would  have 
liked  to  go  into  one  of  the  booths  where  the  girls 
danced,  but  he  had  no  money,  and  he  cursed  at 
his  stupidity  in  not  asking  the  Marx  woman  for 


1 88  GREGORIO. 

some.  He  no  longer  felt  ashamed  of  himself,  for 
he  argued  that  he  was  the  victim  of  circumstances. 
Still  he  wished  Xantippe  had  not  looked  out  of  the 
window,  though  of  course  he  could  easily  explain 
things  to  her.  And  Xantippe  was  really  so  angry 
the  night  before,  explanations  were  better  post- 
poned for  a  time.  "After  all,  "  he  thought,"  it  really 
does  not  much  matter.  Once  we  get  over  our 
present  difficulties  we  shall  forget  all  we  have  gone 
through."  This  comfortable  reflection  had  been 
doing  duty  pretty  often  the  last  day  or  two,  and 
though  Gregorio  did  not  believe  it  a  bit,  he  al- 
ways felt  it  was  a  satisfactory  conclusion,  and  one 
to  be  encouraged. 

Meanwhile  he  would  not  meet  Xantippe.  That 
was  a  point  upon  which  he  had  definitely  made  up 
his  mind.  As  he  strolled  through  the  bazaars, 
putting  into  order  his  vagabond  thoughts,  in  a  tall 
figure  a  few  yards  in  front  of  him  he  recognised 
Amos.  Nervous,  he  halted,  for  he  had  no  desire 
to  be  interviewed  by  the  Jew,  and  yet  no  way  of 
escape  seemed  possible. 

Nodding  affably  to  the  proprietor,  he  sat  down 
on  the  floor  of  a  shop  hard  by  and  watched  Amos. 
The  old  man  was  evidently  interested,  for  he  was 
laughing  pleasantly,  and  bending  down  to  look  at 
something  on  the  ground.  What  it  was  Gregorio 
could  not  see.  A  knot  of  people,  also  laughing, 
surrounded  the  Jew.  Gregorio  was  curious  to  see 
what  attracted  them,  but  fearful  of  being  recog- 
nised by  the  old  man.  However,  after  a  few  mo- 


GREGORIO.  189 

ments  his  impatience  mastered  him,  and  he  stepped 
up  to  the  group. 

"What  is  it?  "  he  asked  one  of  the  bystanders. 

"  Only  a  baby.     It  's  lost,  I  think." 

Gregorio  pushed  his  way  into  the  centre  of  the 
crowd  and  suddenly  became  white  as  death. 

There,  seated  on  the  ground,  was  his  own  child, 
laughing  and  talking  to  himself  in  a  queer  mixture 
of  Greek  and  Arabic.  Amos  was  bending  kindly 
over  the  youngster,  giving  him  cakes  and  sweets, 
and  making  inquiries  as  to  the  parents. 

A  chill  fear  seized  on  Gregorio's  heart.  He 
could  not  have  explained  the  cause,  nor  did  he 
stay  and  try  to  explain  it.  Quickly  he  broke  into 
the  midst  of  the  circle  and,  catching  up  the  boy  in 
his  arms,  ran  swiftly  away. 

Having  reached  home,  he  kissed  the  boy  pas- 
sionately, sent  for  food  to  Madam  Marx,  and  wept 
and  laughed  hysterically  for  an  hour.  After  a 
time  the  boy  slept,  and  Gregorio  then  paced  up 
and  down  the  room,  smoking,  and  puffing  great 
clouds  of  smoke  from  his  mouth,  trying  to  calm 
himself.  But  he  could  not  throw  off  his  excite- 
ment. He  imagined  the  awful  home-coming  had 
he  not  been  to  the  bazaar,  and  he  wondered  what 
he  would  have  done  then.  A  great  joy  possessed 
him  to  see  his  son  safe,  and  a  fierce  desire  filled 
him  to  know  who  had  taken  the  child  away.  He 
longed  for  Xantippe's  return  that  he  might  tell 
her.  He  forgot  completely  that  he  had  dreaded 
seeing  her  earlier  in  the  evening.  Then  he  began 


190  GREGORIO. 

to  wonder  what  Amos  was  doing  at  the  fantasia, 
and  why  he  was  so  interested  in  the  boy.  Perhaps 
Amos  would  forgive  the  debt  for  love  of  the  child. 
The  idea  pleased  him,  but  he  soon  came  to  under- 
stand that  it  was  untenable.  Oftener,  indeed,  he 
shuddered  as  he  recalled  the  old  man's  figure  bent 
ever  the  infant.  A  sense  of  danger  to  come  over- 
whelmed him.  In  some  way  he  felt  that  the  old 
man  and  the  child  were  to  be  brought  together  to 
work  his,  Gregorio's,  ruin. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  footstep  on  the  stairs. 
"Thank  God!"  he  cried,  as  he  ran  to  the  door. 

"Xantippe!" 

But  he  recoiled  as  if  shot,  for  as  the  door 
opened  Amos  entered^  The  Jew  bowed  politely 
to  the  Greek,  but  there  was  an  unpleasant  twinkle 
in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"  You  cannot  offer  me  a  seat,  my  friend,  so  I 
will  stands  We  have  met  already  this  evening." 

Gregorio  did  not  answer,  but  placed  himself 
between  the  Jew  and  the  child. 

"  I  dare  say  you  did  not  see  me,"  the  old  man 
continued,  quietly,  "for  you  seemed  excited.  I 
suppose  the  child  is  yours.  It  was  surely  care- 
less to  let  him  stray  so  far  from  home." 

"  The  child  is  mine." 

"  Ah,  well,  it  is  a  happy  chance  that  you  recov- 
ered him  so  easily.  And  now  to  business." 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  I  have  already,  as  of  course  you  know,  been 
here  to  see  you  about  the  money  you  owe  me.  I 


GREGORIO.  191 

was  sorry  you  did  not  see  fit  to  pay  me,  because 
I  had  to  sell  your  furniture,  and  it  was  not  worth 
much." 

"  I  have  no  money  to  pay  you,  or  I  would  have 
paid  you  long  ago.  I  told  you  when  I  went  to 
your  house  that  I  could  not  pay  you." 

"  And  yet,  my  friend,  it  is  only  fair  that  a  man 
who  borrows  money  should  be  prepared  to  pay  it 
back." 

"  I  could  pay  you  back  if  you  gave  me  time. 
But  you  have  no  heart,  you  Jews.  What  do  you 
care  if  we  starve,  so  long  as — " 

"  Hush ! "  said  Amos,  gravely ;  "  I  have  dealt 
fairly  by  you.  But  I  will  let  you  go  free  on  one 
condition." 

"  And  that  is?  " 

"  That  you  give  me  the  child." 

Gregorio  stood  speechless  with  horror  and  rage 
at  the  window,  and  the  old  man  walked  across  the 
room  to  where  the  infant  lay. 

"  I  have  no  young  son,  Gregorio  Livadas,  and 
I  will  take  yours.  Not  only  will  I  forgive  you 
the  debt,  but  I  will  give  you  money.  I  want  the 
child." 

"  By  God,  you  shall  not  touch  him! "  cried  Gre- 
gorio, suddenly  finding  voice  for  his  passion. 

He  rushed  furiously  at  Amos,  gripped  him  by 
the  throat,  and  flung  him  to  the  far  side  of  the 
room.  Then  he  stood  by  his  child  with  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast,  his  eyes  flashing  and  his  nos- 
trils dilated.  Amos  quickly  recovered  himself,  and, 


I92  GREGORIO. 

in  a  voice  that  scarcely  trembled,  again  demanded 
his  money. 

"  Go  away,"  shouted  Gregorio ;  "  if  you  come 
here  again,  I  will  kill  you.  Twice  now  have  I 
saved  my  boy  from  falling  into  your  hands." 

"  I  wish  only  to  do  you  a  service.  You  are  a 
beggar,  and  I  am  rich  enough,  thank  Heaven,  to 
look  after  the  child.  Why  should  you  abuse  me 
because  I  offer  to  release  you  from  your  debts  if 
you  will  let  me  take  the  child?  " 

Gregorio  answered  brusquely  that  the  Jew 
should  not  touch  the  boy.  "  I  will  not  have  him 
made  a  Jew." 

"  Then  you  will  pay  me." 

"  I  will  not.     I  cannot." 

"  I  shall  take  measures,  my  friend,  to  force  you 
to  pay  me.  I  have  not  dealt  harshly  with  you.  I 
came  here  to  help  you,  and  you  have  insulted  me 
and  beaten  me." 

"  Because  you  are  a  dog  of  a  Jew,  and  you  have 
tried  to  steal  my  son." 

A  nasty  look  came  into  the  Jew's  eyes, — a  cold, 
cunning  look, — and  he  was  about  to  reply  when  the 
door  opened  and  Xantippe  entered.  She  was  well 
dressed,  and  wore  some  ornaments  of  gold.  Amos 
turned  toward  her,  asking  the  man : 

"  This  is  your  wife?  " 

But  Gregorio  told  Xantippe  rapidly  the  history 
of  his  adventures  with  the  boy ;  and  the  woman, 
hearing  them,  moved  quietly  to  the  corner  where 
he  slept,  and  took  him  in  her  arms. 


GREGORIO.  193 

The  Jew  smiled.  "I  see,"  he  said,  "that 
madam  has  money.  She  has  taken  the  advice  I 
gave  you  the  other  day.  Now  I  know  that  you 
can  pay  me,  and  if  you  do  not  within  two  days, 
Gregorio  Livadas,  you  will  repent  the  insults  you 
have  heaped  on  my  head  this  night." 

He  walked  quietly  to  the  corner  of  the  room, 
where  Xantippe  sat  nursing  the  boy,  touched  the 
child  gently  on  the  forehead  with  his  lips,  and  then 
went  out. 

For  some  minutes  neither  Xantippe  nor  Gregorio 
spoke,  but  the  man  rubbed  the  infant's  forehead 
with  his  finger  as  if  to  wipe  out  the  stain  of  the 
Jew's  kiss. 

VII 

XANTIPPE    SPEAKS    OUT 

AT  last  the  silence,  roused  only  by  the  strident 
buzzing  of  the  mosquitos,  became  unendurable. 
Gregorio  gave  a  preparatory  cough  and  opened  his 
lips  to  speak,  but  the  words  refused  to  be  born. 
He  was  unnerved.  The  odious  visitor,  the  weary- 
ing day,  the  memory  of  Xantippe's  face  at  the 
window,  combined  to  make  him  fearful.  He 
watched,  under  his  half-closed  lids,  his  wife 
crouching  on  the  far  side  of  the  boy.  Once  or 
twice,  as  he  was  rubbing  the  youngster's  forehead, 
his  fingers  touched  those  of  his  wife  as  she  waved 
off  the  mosquitos;  but  at  each  contact  with 
them  he  shivered  and  his  /?ars  increased.  He. 


1 94  GREGORIO. 

tried,  vainly,  to  get  his  thoughts  straight,  and  lit 
a  cigarette  with  apparent  calmness,  swaggering  to 
the  window ;  but  his  legs  did  not  cease  to  trem- 
ble, and  the  unsteadiness  of  his  gait  caused  Xan- 
tippe  to  smile  as  she  watched  him.  Resting  by 
the  window,  Gregorio  widened  the  lips  of  the  lat- 
tice and  let  in  a  stream  of  moonbeams  that  rested 
on  wife  and  child,  illumining  the  dark  corner. 

"Gregorio!" 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  told  me  all  ?  Is  there  nothing  else 
to  tell  me  about  our  son  and  the  Jew?  " 

Gregorio  felt  he  must  now  speak ;  it  was  not  pos- 
sible to  keep  silence  longer.  He  was  pleased  that 
his  wife  had  begun  the  conversation,  for  it  seemed 
easier  to  answer  questions  than  to  frame  them. 
"  I  have  told  you  the  whole  story.  There  is  no 
more  to  tell.  It  was  by  accident  I  found  him  in 
the  bazaar,  and  that  devil  Amos  was  bending  over 
him.  I  could  kill  that  man." 

"What  good  would  that  do?  " 

"  Fancy  if  we  had  lost  the  boy !  Think  of  the 
sacrifices  we  have  made  for  him,  and  they  would 
have  been  useless." 

"  Have  you  made  any  sacrifices,  Gregorio?  " 

The  question  was  quietly  asked,  but  there  was  a 
ring  of  irony  in  the  sound  of  the  voice,  and  Gre- 
gorio, to  shun  his  wife's  gaze,  moved  into  the 
friendly  shadows.  For  some  minutes  he  did  not 
answer.  At  length,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  he  re- 
plied: 


GREGORIO.  IQ5 

"  Of  course.  We  have  both  made  sacrifices, 
great  sacrifices." 

"  It  is  odd,"  pursued  Xantippe,  gently,  as  if 
speaking  to  herself,  "that  you  should  so  flatter 
yourself.  You  professed  to  care  for  me  once; 
you  only  regard  me  now  as  a  slave  to  earn  money 
for  you." 

"  It  is  for  our  son's  sake." 

"  Is  it  for  our  son's  sake  also  that  you  sit  with 
Madam  Marx,  that  you  drink  her  wine,  that  you 
kiss  her  ?  " 

Gregorio  could  not  answer.  He  felt  it  were  use- 
less to  try  and  explain,  though  the  reason  seemed 
to  him  clear  enough. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  this  chance,"  continued 
Xantippe,  "  of  talking  to  you,  for  we  may  now 
understand  each  other.  I  have  made  the  greatest 
sacrifice,  and  because  it  was  for  our  son's  sake  I 
forgave  you.  I  wept,  but,  as  I  wept,  I  said, '  It  is 
hell  for  Gregorio  too.'  But  when  I  looked  from 
the  window  this  afternoon  I  knew  it  was  not  hell 
for  you.  I  knew  you  did  not  care  what  became 
of  me.  It  was  pleasant  for  you  to  send  me  away 
to  make  money  while  you  drank  and  kissed  at  the 
Penny-farthing  Shop.  I  came  suddenly  to  know 
that  the  man  had  spoken  truth." 

"  What  man?  "  asked  Gregorio,  huskily. 

"The  man!  The  man  you  bade  me  find.  Be- 
cause money  is  not  gathered  from  the  pavements. 
You  know  that,  and  you  sent  me  out  to  get  money. 
When  I  first  came  back  to  you  I  flung  the  gold  at 


196  GREGORIO. 

you ;  it  burned  my  fingers,  and  your  eagerness  for 
it  stung.  But  I  did  not  quite  hate  you,  though  his 
words  had  begun  to  chime  in  my  ears :  '  In  my 
country  such  a  husband  would  be  horsewhipped.' 
When  you  were  kind  I  was  little  more  than  a  dog 
you  liked  to  pet.  I  thought  that  was  how  all 
women  were  treated.  I  know  differently  now. 
You  will  earn  money  through  me,  for  it  is  my 
duty  to  my  son,  but  you  have  earned  something 
else." 

"Yes?"  queried  Gregorio. 

"My  hate.  Surely  you  are  not  surprised?  I 
have  learned  what  love  is  these  last  few  days,  have 
learned  what  a  real  man  is  like.  I  know  you  to 
be  what  he  called  you,  a  cur  and  a  coward.  I 
should  never  have  learned  this  but  for  you,  and  I 
am  grateful,  very  grateful.  It  is  useless  to  swear 
and  to  threaten  me  with  your  fists.  You  dare  not 
strike  me,  because,  were  you  to  injure  me,  you 
would  lose  your  money.  You  have  tried  to  de- 
grade me,  and  you  have  failed.  I  am  happier 
than  I  have  ever  been,  and  far,  far  wiser.  When 
a  woman  learns  what  a  man's  love  is,  she  becomes 
wiser  in  a  day  than  if  she  had  studied  books  for  a 
hundred  years." 

Xantippe  ceased  speaking  and,  taking  her  son  in 
her  arms,  closed  her  eyes  and  fell  asleep  quietly,  a 
gentle  smile  hovering  round  her  lips. 

Gregorio  scowled  at  her  savagely,  and  would 
have  liked  to  strike  her,  to  beat  out  his  passion 
on  her  white  breast  and  shoulders.  But  she  had 


GREGORIO.  197 

spoken  only  the  truth  when  she  said  he  dare  not 
touch  her.  With  impotent  oaths  he  sought  to  let 
off  the  anger  that  boiled  in  him.  He  feared  to 
think,  and  every  word  she  had  uttered  made  him 
think  in  spite  of  himself.  The  events  of  sixty 
hours  had  destroyed  what  little  of  good  there 
was  in  the  man.  Save  only  the  idolatrous  love 
for  his  child,  he  scarcely  retained  one  ennobling 
quality. 

Little  by  little  his  anger  cooled,  his  shame  died 
out  of  him,  and  he  began  to  wonder  curiously 
what  manner  of  man  this  was  whose  words  had  so 
stirred  his  wife.  Wondering  he  fell  asleep,  nor  did 
he  awaken  till  the  sun  was  risen. 

While  eating  his  breakfast  he  inquired  cunningly 
concerning  this  wise  teacher  of  the  gospels  of  love 
and  hate,  but  Xantippe  for  a  time  did  not  answer. 

"Is  he  a  Greek?" 

"  No." 

"  A  Frenchman?  " 

"  No." 

"  A  German?  " 

"  No." 

Suddenly  Gregorio  felt  a  kind  of  cramp  at  his 
heart,  and  he  had  to  pause  before  he  put  the  next 
question.  He  could  scarcely  explain  why  he  hesi- 
tated, but  he  called  to  mind  the  Paradiso  cafe"  and 
the  red-faced  Englishman.  He  was  ready  enough 
to  sacrifice  his  wife  if  by  so  doing  money  might 
be  gained,  but  he  felt  somehow  hurt  in  his  vanity 
at  the  idea  of  this  ugly,  slow-witted  Northerner 


198  GREGORIO. 

usurping  his  place.  With  an  effort,  however,  he 
put  the  question: 

"  Is  he  an  Englishman?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  was  seized  with  a  tumult  of  anger.  He 
spoke  volubly,  talking  of  the  ignorance  of  the 
English,  their  brutality,  their  dull  brains,  their 
stupid  pride.  Xantippe  waited  till  he  had  finished 
speaking  and  then  replied  quietly : 

"  It  cannot  matter  to  you.  It  is  my  concern. 
You  have  lost  all  rights  to  be  angry  with  me  or 
those  connected  with  me." 

Gregorio  refused  to  hear  reason,  and  explained 
how  he  begrudged  them  their  wealth  and  fame. 
"  For  these  English  are  a  dull  people,  and  we 
Greeks  are  greatly  superior." 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  Xantippe  replied. 
"  I  have  learned  what  a  man  is  since  I  have  known 
him,  and  I  have  learned  to  hate  you.  You  may 
have  more  brains — that  I  know  nothing  of,  nor  do 
I  care.  He  could  not  behave  as  you  have  be- 
haved, nor  have  sacrificed  me  as  you  have  sacri- 
ficed me.  Some  of  his  money  comes  to  you.  You 
want  money.  Be  satisfied." 

Gregorio  felt  the  justice  of  her  words,  and  he 
watched  her  put  on  her  hat  and  leave  the  room. 
A  minute  later,  looking  out  of  the  window,  he  saw 
her  link  her  arm  in  that  of  the  Englishman  of  the 
Paradiso,  and  across  the  street,  at  the  threshold  of 
the  Penny-farthing  Shop,  Madam  Marx  waved  her 
hand  to  himself  and  laughed. 


GREGORIO.  199 

VIII 
A   DESOLATE    HOME-COMING 

TOWARD  the  evening  of  a  day  a  fortnight  later, 
Gregorio  found  himself  seated  in  Madam  Marx's 
cafe,  idly  watching  the  passers-by.  He  was  feel- 
ing happier,  for  that  was  being  amassed  which 
alone  could  insure  happiness  to  him.  Each  day 
some  golden  pieces  were  added  to  the  amount 
saved,  and  the  caf6  at  Benhur  seemed  almost  within 
his  grasp.  The  feeling  of  security  from  want  acted 
as  a  narcotic  and  soothed  him,  so  that  the  things 
which  should  have  troubled  him  scarcely  interested 
him  at  all.  He  was  intoxicated  with  the  sight  of 
gold.  When  he  had  first  seen  Xantippe  and  the 
Englishman  together  his  anger  had  been  violent ; 
but  when  at  last  the  futility  of  his  rage  became 
certain,  his  aggressive  passion  had  softened  to  a 
smouldering  discontent  that  hardly  worried  him, 
unless  he  heard  some  one  speak  a  British  name. 
His  prosperity  had  destroyed  the  last  vestiges  of 
shame  and  soothed  his  illogical  outbursts  of  fury. 
He  was  contented  enough  now  to  sit  all  day  with 
Madam  Marx,  and  returned  to  his  home  in  the 
evening  when  Xantippe  was  away.  He  had 
spoken  to  her  only  once  since  she  had  told  him 
she  hated  him.  He  had  strolled  out  of  the  cafe" 
about  midday  and  entered  his  room.  Xantippe 
was  there,  talking  to  her  child,  and  quietly  bade 
him  go  away. 


200  S&fcGOfclO. 

"  It 's  my  room  as  well  as  yours,"  Gregorio  had 
answered. 

"  It  is  my  money  that  pays  for  it,"  was  the  reply. 

A  long  conversation  followed,  but  Xantippe  met 
the  man's  coarse  anger  with  quiet  scorn,  and  told 
him  that  if  he  stayed  she  should  grow  to  dislike 
her  son  since  he  was  the  father. 

Gregorio  was  wise  enough  to  control  his  anger 
then.  For  he  knew  that  if  she  were  really  to  lose 
her  love  for  the  boy,  all  his  chances,  and  the  boy's 
chances,  of  ease  and  prosperity  would  be  de- 
stroyed. It  was,  of  course,  ridiculous  to  imagine 
she  would  supply  him  with  money  then.  That 
she  thoroughly  loathed  him,  and  would  always 
loathe  him,  was  very  certain.  So  great,  indeed, 
seemed  her  contempt  for  him  that  it  was  quite 
possible  she  might  come  to  hate  his  child.  So  he 
did  not  attempt  to  remain  in  the  room,  but  as  he 
closed  the  door  after  him  he  waited  a  moment  and 
listened.  He  heard  her  heave  a  sigh  of  relief  and 
then  say  to  the  little  fellow,  "  How  like  your  father 
you  grow!  My  God!  I  almost  think  I  hate  you 
for  being  so  like  him."  Gregorio  shuddered  as  he 
ran  noiselessly  downstairs.  He  never  ventured  to 
speak  to  her  again.  He  argued  himself  out  of 
the  disquiet  into  which  her  words  had  thrown 
him.  He  knew  it  was  difficult  for  a  woman  to 
hate  her  child.  The  birth-pains  cement  a  love  it 
requires  a  harsh  wrench  to  sever.  He  easily  per- 
suaded himself,  as  he  sipped  Madam  Marx's 
coffee,  that  if  he  kept  in  the  background  all  cause 


GREGORIO.  201 

for  hatred  would  be  removed.  As  for  her  feelings 
toward  himself,  he  had  ceased,  almost,  to  care. 
The  money  was  worth  the  cost  paid  in  the  attain- 
ment of  it,  and  a  woman's  laugh  was  less  sweet  to 
him  than  the  chink  of  gold  and  silver  pieces.  On 
the  whole  Gregorio  had  little  reason  to  be  troubled ; 
only  unreasoning  dislike  for  the  Englishman— why 
could  not  he  be  of  any  other  nation,  or,  if  an  Eng- 
lishman, any  other  Englishman?— hurt  his  peace  of 
mind.  And  for  the  most  part  his  discontent  only 
smouldered. 

Madam  Marx  brought  her  coffee  and  sat  beside 
him.  Her  face  betokened  satisfaction,  and  she 
looked  at  Gregorio  with  a  possessive  smile.  She 
had  gained  her  desire,  and  asked  fortune  for  no 
other  gift. 

"  You  have  not  seen  Xantippe  since  she  turned 
you  out?  Ah,  well,  it  is  much  better  you  should 
keep  away.  You  are  welcome  here,  and  it  is  fool- 
ish to  go  where  one  is  not  wanted." 

"  I  Ve  not  seen  her ;  I  'm  afraid  to  see  her." 
He  spoke  openly  to  madam  now. 

"Some  women  are  queer.  If  she  had  ever 
really  loved  you,  she  would  not  have  thrown  you 
over.  I  should  not  have  complained  had  I  been 
in  her  place.  One  cannot  always  choose  one's 
lot." 

"  It 's  that  damned  Englishman  who  has  spoiled 
her." 

"Ah,  yes,  those  English!      I  know  them." 

"  Did  I  tell  you  what  she  said  about  the  boy?  " 


202  GREGORIO. 

"Yes,  my  friend.  But  as  long  as  you  don't 
worry  her,  her  words  need  not  worry  you." 

"  They  don't,  except  sometimes  at  night.  I  wake 
up  and  remember  them,  and  then  I  am  afraid." 

"Why  do  you  hate  the  Englishman?  To  my 
mind  it  is  lucky  for  both  of  you  that  this  English- 
man saw  her.  There  are  no  men  so  rich  as  the 
English,  and  he  is  a  rich  Englishman.  You  are 
lucky." 

"  I  hate  him." 

"  Because  he  has  stolen  your  wife's  love? " 
Madam  Marx,  as  she  put  the  question,  laid  her 
fat  hand  upon  Gregorio's  shoulder  and  laughed 
confidently.  The  movement  irritated  him,  but  he 
never  tried  to  resist  her  now. 

"  No,  not  quite  that.  I  'm  used  to  it,  and  the 
money  more  than  compensates  me.  But  I  hated 
the  man  when  I  first  saw  him  in  the  Paradise. 
There  was  a  fiddler- woman  he  talked  to,  and  he 
could  scarcely  make  himself  understood.  He  had 
money,  and  he  gave  her  champagne  and  flowers. 
And  I  was  starving,  and  the  woman  was  beautiful." 

Madam  tapped  his  cheek  and  smiled. 

"  The  woman  can't  interest  you  now.  Also  you 
have  money — his  money." 

"  Still  I  hate  him." 

"  You  Greeks  are  like  children.  Your  hatred  is 
unreasonable ;  there  is  no  cause  for  it." 

"  Unreasonable  and  not  to  be  reasoned  away." 

"  Well,  why  worry  about  him?  He  won't  fol- 
low you  to  Benhur,  I  fancy." 


GREGORIO.  203 

"It  does  n't  worry  me  generally;  but  when 
you  mention  him  my  hate  springs  up  again.  I 
forget  him  when  I  am  by  myself." 

"  Forget  him  now." 

And  they  drank  their  coffee  in  silence. 

Darkness  came  on,  and  the  blue  night  mist. 
Gregorio  was  impatient  to  see  his  son.  He  gazed 
intently  at  the  door  of  the  opposite  house,  little 
heeding  madam,  who  was  busy  with  preparations 
for  the  evening's  entertainment  of  her  customers. 
Suddenly  he  saw  a  woman  leave  the  house,  hail  a 
passing  carriage,  and  drive  rapidly  down  the  street 
toward  the  Place  Mehemet  Ali.  Gregorio,  with 
a  cry  of  pleasure,  rose  and  left  the  cafe.  Madam 
Marx  followed  him  to  the  door  and  called  a  good- 
night to  him.  Gregorio  stood  irresolutely  in  the 
middle  of  the  road.  He  had  promised  the  boy  a 
boat,  and  he  blamed  himself  for  having  forgotten 
to  buy  it.  Grumbling  at  his  forgetfulness,  he  hur- 
ried along  the  street,  determined  to  waste  no  time. 
On  occasions  he  could  relinquish  his  lazy,  slouch- 
ing gait,  and  he  would  hurry  always  to  obey  the 
commands  of  the  king  his  son.  A  pleasant  smile 
at  the  thought  of  the  pleasure  his  present  would 
cause  softened  the  sinister  mould  of  his  lips,  and 
he  sang  softly  to  himself  as  he  moved  quickly 
cityward. 

Before  he  had  gone  many  yards  an  oath  broke 
in  upon  the  music,  and  he  darted  swiftly  under  the 
shadow  of  a  wall;  for  coming  toward  him  was 
Amos  the  Jew.  But  the  old  man's  sharp  eyes  de- 


204  GREGORIO. 

tected  the  victim,  and,  following  Gregorio  into  his 
hiding-place,  Amos  laid  his  hand  upon  the  Greek. 

"Why  do  you  try  to  hide  when  we  have  so 
much  to  say  to  one  another?  " 

Gregorio  shook  himself  from  the  Jew's  touch  and 
professed  ignorance  of  the  necessity  for  speech. 

"  Come,  come,  my  friend,  the  money  you  bor- 
rowed is  still  owing  in  part." 

"  But  you  will  be  paid.  We  are  saving  money ; 
we  cannot  put  by  all  we  earn — we  must  live." 

"  I  will  be  paid  now ;  if  I  am  not,  you  are  to 
blame  for  the  consequences." 

And  with  a  courtly  salute  the  Jew  passed  on. 
Now  Gregorio  had  not  forgotten  his  debt,  nor 
the  Jew's  threats,  and  he  fully  intended  to  pay  what 
he  owed.  But  of  course  it  would  take  time,  and 
the  man  was  too  impatient.  He  realised  he  had 
been  foolish  not  to  pay  something  on  account ;  but 
it  hurt  him  to  part  with  gold.  He  determined, 
however,  to  send  Amos  something  when  he  re- 
turned home.  So  good  a  watch  had  been  kept, 
he  never  doubted  the  child's  safety.  But  it  would 
be  awkward  if  Amos  got  him  put  in  jail.  So  he 
reckoned  up  how  much  he  could  afford  to  pay, 
and,  having  bought  the  toy,  returned  eagerly 
home.  He  ran  upstairs,  singing  a  barcarole  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  and  rushed  into  the  room, 
waving  the  model  ship  above  his  head.  "  See 
here,"  he  cried,  "is  the  ship!  I  have  not  for- 
gotten it."  But  his  shout  fell  to  a  whisper.  The 
room  was  empty. 


GREGORIO.  205 

With  a  heartbroken  sob  the  man  fell  swooning 
on  the  floor. 


IX 

A   DISCOVERY  AND   A   CONSPIRACY 

FOR  long  he  lay  stretched  out  upon  the  floor 
in  a  state  of  half-consciousness.  He  could  hear  the 
mosquitos  buzzing  about  his  face,  he  could  hear, 
too,  the  sounds  of  life  rise  up  from  the  street  below ; 
but  he  was  able  to  move  neither  arm  nor  leg,  and 
his  head  seemed  fastened  to  the  floor  by  immova- 
ble leaden  weights.  That  his  son  was  lost  was  all 
he  understood. 

How  long  he  lay  there  he  scarcely  knew,  but  it 
seemed  to  him  weeks.  At  last  he  heard  footsteps 
on  the  stairs.  He  endeavoured  vainly  to  raise  him- 
self, and,  though  he  strove  to  cry  out,  his  tongue 
refused  to  frame  the  words.  Lying  there,  living 
and  yet  lifeless,  he  saw  the  door  open  and  Amos 
enter.  The  old  man  hesitated  a  moment,  for  the 
room  was  dark,  while  Gregorio,  who  had  easily 
recognised  his  visitor,  lay  impotent  on  the  floor. 
Before  Amos  could  become  used  to  the  darkness 
the  door  again  opened,  and  Madam  Marx  entered 
with  a  lamp  in  her  hand.  Amos  turned  to  see  who 
had  followed  him,  and,  in  turning,  his  foot  struck 
against  Gregorio's  body.  Immediately,  the  woman 
crying  softly,  both  visitors  knelt  beside  the  sick 
man.  A  fierce  look  blazed  in  Gregorio's  eyes,  but 


206  GREGORIO. 

the  strong  words  of  abuse  that  hurried  through  his 
brain  would  not  be  said. 

"  He  is  very  ill,"  said  Amos ;  "  he  has  had  a 
stroke  of  some  sort." 

"  Help  me  to  carry  him  to  my  house,"  sobbed 
the  woman,  and  she  kissed  the  Greek's  quivering 
lip  and  pallid  brow.  Then  rising  to  her  feet,  she 
turned  savagely  on  the  Jew. 

"  It  is  your  fault.  It  is  you  who  have  killed 
him." 

"  Nay,  madam ;  I  had  called  here  for  my  money, 
and  I  had  a  right  to  do  so.  It  has  been  owing  for 
a  long  time." 

"  No ;  you  have  killed  him." 

"  Indeed,  I  wished  him  well.  I  was  willing  to 
forgive  the  debt  if  he  would  let  me  take  the 
child." 

A  horrid  look  of  agony  passed  over  Gregorio's 
face,  but  he  remained  silent  and  motionless.  The 
watchers  saw  that  he  understood  and  that  a  tem- 
pest of  wrath  and  pain  surged  within  the  lifeless 
body.  They  stooped  down  and  carried  him 
downstairs  and  across  the  road  to  the  Penny- 
farthing  Shop.  The  Jew's  touch  burned  Gregorio 
like  hot  embers,  but  he  could  not  shake  himself 
free.  When  he  was  laid  on  a  bed  in  a  room  above 
the  bar,  through  the  floor  of  which  rose  discordant 
sounds  of  revelry,  Amos  left  them.  Madam  Marx 
flung  herself  on  the  bed  beside  him  and  wept. 

Two  days  later  Gregorio  sat,  at  sunset,  by 
Madam  Marx's  side,  on  the  threshold  of  the  cafe. 


GREGORIO.  207 

He  had  recovered  speech  and  use  of  limbs.  With 
wrathful  eloquence  he  had  told  his  companion  the 
history  of  the  terrible  night,  and  now  sat  weaving 
plots  in  his  maddened  brain. 

Replying  to  his  assertion  that  Amos  was  respon- 
sible, Madam  Marx  said : 

"  Don't  be  too  impetuous,  Gregorio.  Search 
cunningly  before  you  strike.  Maybe  your  wife 
knows  something." 

"  My  wife !  Not  she ;  she  is  with  her  English- 
man. Amos  has  stolen  the  boy,  and  you  know  it 
as  well  as  I  do.  Did  n't  he  tell  you  he  wanted  the 
child?  I  met  him  that  night,  and  he  told  me  if  I 
did  not  pay  I  had  only  myself  to  blame  for  the 
trouble  that  would  fall  on  me." 

"  Come,  come,  Gregorio,  cheer  up ! "  said  the 
woman ;  for  the  Greek,  with  head  resting  on  his 
hands,  was  sobbing  violently. 

"  I  tell  you,  all  I  cared  for  in  life  is  taken  from 
me.  But  I  will  have  my  revenge,  that  I  tell  you 
too." 

For  a  while  they  sat  silent,  looking  into  the 
street.  At  last  Gregorio  spoke: 

"  My  wife  has  not  returned  since  that  night,  has 
she?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  her." 

"  Well,  I  must  see  her ;  she  can  leave  the  Eng- 
lishman now." 

Madam  Marx  laughed  a  little,  but  said  nothing. 

"There  is  Ahmed,"  cried  Gregorio,  as  a  blue- 
clad  figure  passed  on  the  other  side  of  the  street. 


208  GREGORIO. 

He  beckoned  to  the  Arab,  who  came  across  at  his 
summons. 

"  You  seem  troubled,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  into 
the  Greek's  face ;  and  Gregorio  retold  the  terrible 
story. 

"You  know  nothing  of  all  this?"  he  added, 
suspiciously,  as  his  narrative  ended. 

"  Nothing." 

"  My  God!  it  is  so  awful  I  thought  all  the  world 
knew  of  it.  You  often  nursed  and  played  with  the 
boy?  " 

"  Ay,  and  fed  him.  We  Arabs  love  children,  even 
Christian  children,  and  I  will  help  you  if  I  can." 

"  Why  should  Amos  want  the  boy? "  asked 
Madam  Marx,  as  she  put  coffee  and  tobacco  be- 
fore the  guests. 

"  Because  I  owe  him  money,  and  he  knew  the 
loss  of  my  son  would  be  the  deadliest  revenge. 
He  will  make  my  son  a  Jew,  a  beastly  Jew.  By 
God,  he  shall  not,  he  shall  not!" 

"We  must  and  him  and  save  him,"  said  the 
woman. 

"  He  will  never  be  a  Jew.  That  is  not  what 
Amos  wants  your  son  for;  there  are  plenty  of 
Jews."  Ahmed  spoke  quietly. 

"  They  sacrifice  children,"  he  continued,  after  a 
moment's  pause ;  "  surely  you  know  that,  and  if  you 
would  save  your  boy  there  is  not  much  time  to 
lose." 

Gregorio  trembled  at  Ahmed's  words.  He 
wondered  how  he  could  have  forgotten  the  com- 


GREGORIO.  209 

mon  report,  and  his  fingers  grasped  convulsively 
the  handle  of  his  knife. 

"Let  us  go  to  Amos,"  he  said,  speaking  the 
words  with  difficulty,  for  he  was  choking  with  fear 
for  his  son. 

"  Wait,"  answered  the  Arab ;  "  I  will  come  again 
to-night  and  bring  some  friends  with  me,  two  men 
who  will  be  glad  to  serve  you.  We  Arabs  are  not 
sorry  to  strike  at  the  Jews;  we  have  our  own 
wrongs.  Wait  here  till  I  come." 

"  But  what  will  you  do?  "  asked  Madam  Marx, 
looking  anxiously  on  the  man  she  loved,  though 
her  words  were  for  the  Arab. 

"  Gregorio  will  ask  for  his  son.  If  the  old  man 
refuses  to  restore  him,  or  denies  that  he  has  taken 
him,  then  we  know  the  worst,  and  then — " 

Gregorio's  knife-blade  glittered  in  the  sunset 
rays,  as  he  tested  its  sharpness  between  thumb  and 
finger.  The  Arab  watched  with  a  smile.  "We 
understand  one  another,"  he  said.  There  was  no 
need  to  finish  the  description  of  his  plan.  With 
a  solemn  wave  of  his  hand  he  left  the  cafe". 

"  That  man  Ahmed,"  said  Madam  Marx,  "  has 
a  grudge  against  Amos.  It  dates  from  the  bom- 
bardment, and  he  has  waited  all  these  years  to 
avenge  himself.  I  believe  it  was  the  loss  of  his 
wife." 

"  Amos  made  her  a  Jewess,  eh?  "  And  then, 
after  a  pause,  Gregorio  added : 

"So  we  can  depend  on  Ahmed.  To-night  I 
will  win  back  my  son  or — " 


2IO  GREGORIO. 

"  Or  ?  "  queried  madam,  tremblingly. 

"  Or  Amos  starts  on  his  journey  to  hell.  God, 
how  my  fingers  itch  to  slay  him!  The  devil,  the 
Jew  devil  1" 

X 
AT   THE    HOUSE   OF   AMOS 

As  Ahmed  had  advised,  Gregorio  settled  himself 
patiently  to  await  the  summons.  Madam  would 
have  liked  to  ask  him  many  questions,  and  to  have 
extracted  a  promise  from  him  not  to  risk  his  life  in 
any  mad  enterprise  his  accomplice  might  suggest. 
But  though  the  Greek's  body  seemed  almost  life- 
less, so  quietly  and  immovably  he  rested  on  his 
chair,  there  was  a  restless  look  in  his  eyes  that  told 
her  how  fiercely  and  irrepressibly  his  anger  burned. 
She  knew  enough  of  his  race  to  know  that  no 
power  on  earth  could  stop  him  striking  for  revenge. 
And  she  trembled,  for  she  knew  also  that  directly 
he  had  begun  to  strike  his  madness  would  in- 
crease, and  that  only  sheer  physical  exhaustion 
would  stay  his  hand. 

Madam  Marx  was  unhappy,  and  as  she  waited 
on  her  customers  her  eyes  rested  continually  on  the 
Greek,  who  heeded  her  not.  Once  she  carried 
some  wine  to  him,  and  he  drank  eagerly,  spilling 
a  few  drops  on  the  floor  first.  "  It  's  like  blood," 
he  muttered,  and  smiled.  Madam  hastily  covered 
his  mouth  with  her  trembling  fingers. 


GREGORIO.  2  1 1 

Just  before  midnight  Ahmed  arrived  with  his  two 
friends.  Gregorio  saw  them  at  once,  and,  calling 
them  to  him,  they  spoke  together  in  low  voices  for 
a  few  moments.  There  was  little  need  for  words, 
and  soon,  scarcely  noticed  by  the  drinkers  and 
gamblers,  they  passed  out  into  the  street  and 
walked  slowly  toward  the  Jew's  house.  Ahmed 
rapidly  repeated  the  plan  of  action.  When  they 
reached  the  door  they  stood  for  a  moment  before 
they  woke  the  Arab,  and  these  words  passed  be- 
tween them: 

"  For  a  wife." 

"  For  a  sister." 

"  For  a  son." 

Gregorio  then  demanded  admittance  and  led  the 
way,  followed  by  his  three  friends.  He  had  visited 
the  house  of  Amos  before,  on  less  bloody  but  less 
delightful  business,  and  he  did  not  hesitate,  but 
strode  on  to  where  he  knew  the  Jew  would  be. 
His  companions  stood  behind  the  curtain,  await- 
ing the  signal. 

Amos  looked  somewhat  surprised  at  the  Greek's 
entrance,  but  motioned  him  to  a  seat,  and,  as  on 
the  occasion  of  his  first  visit,  clapped  his  hands 
together  as  a  signal  that  coffee  and  pipes  were 
required. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  come,  for  doubtless  you 
wish  to  pay  me  what  is  owing." 

"  I  wish  to  pay  you." 

"  That  is  well.  I  hope  you  are  better  again.  I 
regretted  to  find  you  so  ill  two  nights  ago." 


212  GREGORIO. 

"  I  am  better." 

The  conversation  ceased,  for  Gregorio  was  rest- 
less and  his  fingers  itched  to  do  their  work. 
Something  in  his  manner  alarmed  Amos,  for  he 
summoned  in  two  of  his  servants  and  raised  him- 
self slightly,  as  if  the  better  to  avoid  an  attack. 
But  he  continued  to  smoke  calmly,  watching  the 
Greek  under  his  half -closed  lids. 

"  I  have  another  piece  of  business  to  settle  with 
you." 

"  Do  you  want  to  borrow  more  money  because 
I  refuse  to  lend  you  any?  " 

"  No ;  it  is  you  who  have  borrowed,  and  I  have 
come  to  you  to  receive  back  my  own." 

"  I  fail  to  understand  you." 

Gregorio  tried  to  keep  calm,  but  it  was  not  pos- 
sible. Rising  to  his  feet,  he  bent  over  the  Jew  and 
cried  out: 

"  Give  me  back  my  son,  you  Jew  dog! " 

"  Your  son  is  not  here." 

"  You  lie !  by  God,  you  lie !  If  he  is  not  here 
you  have  murdered  him." 

"  Madman! "  shouted  Amos,  as  the  Greek's  knife 
flashed  from  its  sheath ;  but  before  he  or  his  ser- 
vants could  stay  the  uplifted  arm  the  Jew  sank 
back  among  his  cushions,  wounded  to  the  heart. 
With  a  shout  of  triumph  and  a  "Death  to  all 
Jews!"  Gregorio  turned  savagely  on  the  servants 
and,  reinforced  by  his  companions,  soon  succeeded 
in  slaying  them.  Then  leaving  the  dead  side  by 
side,  the  four  men  dashed  through  the  house  seeK.- 


GREGORIO.  213 

ing  fresh  victims.  Ten  minutes  later  they  were  in 
the  street  again,  dripping  with  the  blood  of  women 
and  men,  for  in  their  fury  they  had  killed  every 
human  being  in  the  house. 

Down  the  narrow  native  streets  they  pushed  on 
quickly,  hugging  the  shadows,  toward  the  Penny- 
farthing  Shop.  Madam  Marx,  her  ears  sharpened 
by  fear,  heard  them,  admitted  them  by  a  side  door, 
and  led  them  quickly  to  an  upper  room.  Thither 
she  carried  water  and  clean  garments,  but  dared 
not  ask  any  questions.  Sick  with  anxiety,  she  re- 
entered  the  bar  and  waited. 

At  length  the  murderers  appeared  and  called  for 
coffee,  and  Madam  Marx  attended  to  their  wants. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  Egyptians  left,  and  Gregorio 
and  she  were  alone.  Coming  near  him,  she  placed 
her  hand  timidly  on  his  shoulder,  and  asked  him, 
in  a  hoarse  whisper,  to  tell  her  what  had  happened. 

"  My  son  was  not  there." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  you  can  guess  the  rest.  Not  one  person 
remains  alive  of  that  devil's  household." 

Madam  Marx  gasped  at  the  magnitude  of  the 
crime,  and  though  her  terrors  increased,  her  pride 
in  the  man  capable  of  so  tremendous  a  revenge 
increased  also. 

"  What  will  happen  to  you?  "  she  found  voice 
to  ask. 

"Nothing.  I  must  hide  here.  We  were  not 
seen.  Besides,  you  remember  the  last  time  a 
Greek  murdered  a  Jew — it  was  at  Port  Said — the 


214  GREGORIO. 

matter  was  hushed  up.  Our  consuls  care  as  little 
for  the  Jews  as  we  do.  My  God,  how  glad  I  am 
I  killed  him!" 

His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  street  as  he  spoke, 
and  suddenly  he  started  to  his  feet.  Madam  rose 
too,  and  clung  to  him.  He  pushed  her  roughly 
on  one  side,  while  an  evil  smile  played  on  his  lips. 

"By  God,  she  shall  come  back  now!" 

"  Who?  " 

"  Xantippe.  There  is  no  need  for  her  to  live 
with  the  Englishman  now.  Our  son  is  dead  and 
the  Jew  in  hell.  I  will  at  least  have  my  wife 
back." 

"  She  will  not  come." 

"  She  shall  come.  By  God,  I  will  make  her!  I 
have  tasted  blood  to-night,  and  I  am  not  a  child 
to  be  treated  with  contempt.  I  say  I  will  make 
her  come." 

"  But  if  she  refuses?  " 

"  Then  I  will  take  care  she  does  not  go  back  to 
the  Englishman." 

"You  will — "  but  madam's  voice  faltered. 
Gregorio  read  her  meaning  and  laughed  a  yes. 

"  But,  Gregorio,  think ;  you  will  be  hanged  for 
that.  Your  wife  is  not  a  Jewess." 

But  Gregorio  laughed  again  and  strode  into  the 
street.  He  was  mad  with  grief  and  the  intoxicat- 
ing draughts  of  vengeance  he  had  swallowed.  He 
strode  across  the  road  and  mounted  the  stairs  with 
steady  feet.  Madam  Marx  followed  him,  weeping 
•»nd  calling  on  him  to  come  back.  As  he  reached 


GREGORIO.  215 

the  door  of  his  room  she  flung  herself  before  him, 
but  he  pushed  her  on  one  side  with  his  feet  and 
shut  the  door  behind  him  as  he  entered. 

Lying  on  the  threshold,  she  heard  the  bolt  fast- 
ened, and  knew  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy  was 
begun. 

XI 

HUSBAND    AND    WIFE 

As  Gregorio  entered  the  room,  Xantippe,  who 
was  kneeling  by  a  box  into  which  she  was  placing 
clothes  neatly  folded,  turned  her  head  and  said 
laughingly : 

"You  are  impatient,  my  friend;  I  have  near- 
ly—" 

But  recognising  Gregorio,  she  did  not  finish  the 
sentence.  She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  box. 
Her  face  became  white,  and  the  blood  left  her  lips. 
With  a  great  effort  she  remained  quiet  and  folded 
her  hands  on  her  lap. 

Gregorio  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  a  cruel 
smile  making  his  sinister  face  appear  almost  terri- 
ble, and  his  bloodshot  eyes  glared  at  her  savagely. 
At  last  he  broke  the  silence  by  shouting  her  name 
hoarsely,  making  at  the  same  time  a  movement 
toward  her.  He  looked  like  a  wild  animal  about 
to  spring  upon  his  prey.  Xantippe,  however,  did 
not  flinch,  answering  softly : 

"  I  am  not  deaf.     What  do  you  want  here?  " 


2 1 6  GREGORIO. 

"  It  is  my  room ;  I  suppose  I  have  a  right  to  be 
here." 

"  I  apologise  for  having  intruded." 

"  None  of  your  smooth  speeches.  The  English- 
man has  schooled  you  carefully,  I  see.  Can  you 
say  '  good-bye  '  in  English  yet  ?  " 

"Why  should  I  say  'good-bye'?" 

"  It  is  time.     You  will  come  back  to  me  now." 

"  Never." 

Gregorio  laughed  hysterically  and  stood  beside 
her.  His  fingers  played  with  her  hair.  In  spite 
of  her  fear  lest  she  should  irritate  him,  Xantippe 
shrank  from  his  touch.  Gregorio  noticed  her 
aversion  and  said  savagely: 

"You  must  get  used  to  me,  Xantippe.  From 
to-night  we  live  together  again.  It  is  not  necessary 
now  for  you  to  earn  money." 

"  I  shall  not  come  back  to  you.  I  have  told  you 
I  hate  you.  It  is  your  own  fault  that  I  leave 
you." 

"  It  will  be  my  fault  if  you  do  leave  me." 

He  pushed  her  on  to  the  mattress  and  held  her 
there. 

"  Let  us  talk,"  he  said. 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  silence,  and  then 
he  continued : 

"  Amos  is  dead,  and  our  debts  are  paid." 

"  How  did  you  pay  them?  " 

"  With  this,"  and  as  he  spoke  he  touched  the 
handle  of  his  knife.  "  Don't  shudder ;  he  deserved 
it,  and  I  shall  be  safe  in  a  few  days.  These  affairs 


GREGORIO.  2 1  7 

are  quickly  forgotten.  Besides,  there  is  another 
reason  why  we  should  not  live  as  we  have  lately 
been  living." 

Xantippe  opened  her  eyes  as  she  asked,  "  What 
reason?  " 

Gregorio  relaxed  his  hold,  for  the  memory  of  his 
loss  shook  him  with  sobs.  Cat-like,  Xantippe  had 
waited  her  opportunity  and  sprang  away  from  his 
grasp.  The  movement  brought  the  man  to  his 
senses.  He  rushed  at  her  with  an  oath,  waving 
the  knife  in  his  hand.  Xantippe  prepared  to  de- 
fend herself.  They  stood,  desperate,  before  each 
other,  neither  daring  to  begin  the  struggle. 
Through  the  awful  silence  came  the  sound  of 
sobs  and  a  plaintive  voice  crying: 

"  Gregorio,  come  back,  leave  her ;  I  love  you." 

"  Is  Madam  Marx  outside  ?  "  hissed  Xantippe. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  go  to  her.  I  tell  you  I  hate  you."  She 
pointed  to  the  half-filled  box— "I  was  going  to 
leave  here  to-night.  I  will  never  return  to  you." 

"You  were  going  with  the  Englishman?" 

"  He  is  a  man." 

Gregorio  paused  a  moment,  then  in  a  suppressed 
voice,  half  choking  at  the  words,  said : 

"Our  son — do  you  know  what  has  happened 
to  him?  You  shall  not  leave  me." 

"  I  know  about  our  son.  I  am  glad  to  think  he 
is  away  from  your  evil  influence.  Let  me  pass." 
Xantippe  moved  toward  the  door,  but  Gregorio 
seized  her  by  the  throat. 


2l8  GREGORIO. 

"You  are  glad  our  son  is  killed;  you  helpe'* 
Amos  to  kill  him." 

Rage  and  despair  impelled  him.  Laughing 
brutally,  he  struck  her  on  the  breast,  and,  as  she 
tottered,  sent  his  knife  deep  into  her  heart.  For  a 
few  seconds  he  stood  over  her  exulting,  and  then 
opened  the  door.  Madam  Marx,  white  with  fear, 
rushed  into  the  room.  Seeing  the  murdered 
woman,  a  look  of  triumph  came  into  her  eyes. 
But  it  was  a  momentary  triumph,  for  she  realised 
at  once  the  gravity  of  the  crime.  She  had  little 
pity  or  sorrow  to  waste  on  the  dead,  but  she  was 
full  of  concern  for  the  safety  of  the  murderer. 

"  This  is  a  bad  night's  work,  Gregorio." 

"  Is  it  ?  She  deserved  death.  I  am  glad  I 
killed  her.  God,  how  peacefully  I  shall  sleep  to- 
night!" 

"This  is  a  worse  matter  than  the  other,  my 
friend ;  you  must  get  away  from  here  at  once." 

"  Let  us  leave  the  corpse ;  I  am  thirsty,"  Gre- 
gorio answered,  callously.  With  a  last  look  at 
Xantippe  dead  upon  the  floor,  the  two  left  the 
room  and  made  fast  the  bolt  before  descending 
the  stairs.  As  they  emerged  from  the  doorway 
into  the  street,  some  police  rode  by,  and  Gregorio 
trembled  a  little  as  he  stood  watching  them. 

"  I  want  a  drink  ;  I  am  trembling,"  he  said,  husk- 
ily, and  followed  Madam  Marx  into  the  shop. 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  rise,  and  already  signs 
of  a  new  life  were  stirring.  The  day-workers  ap- 
peared at  the  windows  and  in  the  streets. 


GREGORIO.  219 

"You  must  get  away  at  night,  Gregorio,  and 
keep  hidden  all  day." 

"  All  right.  Give  me  some  wine.  I  can  arrange 
better  when  my  thirst  is  satisfied." 

After  drinking  deeply  he  turned  and  laughed. 
"  It  has  been  a  busy  time  since  sunset." 

Then,  as  if  a  new  idea  suddenly  struck  him, 
he  queried  cunningly,  "There  will  be  a  reward 
offered  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Then  you  will  be  a  rich  woman." 

Madam  Marx  flung  herself  at  his  feet  and 
wept  bitterly.  The  blow  was  a  cruel  one  indeed. 
Eagerly  she  entreated  him  to  retract  his  words. 
She  reminded  him  of  all  she  had  done  for  him,  of 
all  she  would  still  do.  A  sort  of  eloquence  came 
to  her  as  she  pleaded  her  cause,  and  Gregorio, 
weary  with  excitement,  kissed  her  as  he  asked : 

"  But  why  should  you  not  give  me  up?  " 

"  Because  I  love  you." 

Neither  blood  nor  cruelty  could  stain  him  in  her 
eyes. 

At  last  her  passion  spent  itself;  calmed  and 
soothed  by  Gregorio's  caress  she  realised  again 
the  danger  her  lover  ran.  Vainly  were  plans  dis- 
cussed ;  no  fair  chance  of  escape  seemed  open. 
At  last  Gregorio  said: 

"  I  shall  leave  here  to-night  for  Ramleh  and  live 
in  the  desert  for  a  time.  If  you  help  me  we  can 
manage  easily.  When  my  beard  is  grown  I  can 
get  back  here  safely  enough,  and  the  matter  will 


22O  GREGORIO. 

be  forgotten.  You  must  collect  food  and  take  it 
by  train  to  the  last  station,  and  get  the  box  buried 
by  Ahmed  near  the  palace.  I  can  creep  toward 
it  at  night  unseen." 

"  But  I  will  come  to  you  at  night  and  bring  food 
and  drink." 

"  No.  That  would  only  attract  attention.  You 
must  not  leave  your  customers.  But  the  drink  is 
the  worst  part  of  the  matter.  I  must  have  water. 
Get  as  many  ostrich-eggs  as  you  can,  and  fill  them 
with  water,  and  seal  them.  Hide  these  with  the 
food,  and  I  will  carry  some  of  them  into  the 
farther  desert  and  bury  them  there." 

"  Gregorio,  if  all  comes  right  you  will  not  be 
sorry  you  killed  her?  " 

"  She  hated  me.     I  shall  not  be  sorry." 

And  Madam  Marx  smiled  and  forgot  her  fears. 


XII 

IN   THE    DESERT   AND    ON  THE    SEA 

BY  the  last  train  leaving  Alexandria  for  Ramleh, 
the  next  evening,  Gregorio  sought  to  escape  his 
pursuers.  He  had  heard  from  Ahmed  on  the  plat- 
form, just  before  starting,  that  Xantippe's  body  had 
been  discovered,  and  that  already  the  police  were 
on  his  track.  He  sat  in  a  corner  of  a  third-class 
carriage  closely  muffled,  and  eyeing  his  neighbours 
suspiciously.  He  sighed  with  relief  as  the  train 
moved  out  of  the  station  and  began  to  pass  by  the 


GRECO  RIO.  221 

sand-hills  and  white  villas,  showing  ghost-like  in 
the  damp  mist. 

When  he  reached  St.  Antonio  he  saw  the  lights 
of  the  casino  blazing  cheerfully,  and  the  pure  clear 
desert  air  invigorated  him.  Fascinated  by  the 
glare,  he  strolled  toward  the  casino  and  decided, 
in  spite  of  the  risk,  to  enter.  He  watched  from  a 
corner  the  players,  and  greedily  coveted  the  masses 
of  gold  and  silver  piled  in  pyramids  behind  the 
croupiers.  He  heard  the  violins  playing  Supp6's 
overture,  and  the  remembrance  came  vividly  to 
him  of  the  Paradiso  and  the  fair  girl  with  whom 
the  Englishman  talked.  The  exciting  events  fol- 
lowing that  evening  passed  before  him — a  lurid 
panorama. 

An  hour  fled  quickly  away ;  then  he  sought  the 
solitude  of  the  desert,  and,  having  collected  into  a 
bag  as  much  food  and  as  many  eggs  as  he  could 
carry,  he  walked  away  over  the  sands. 

Under  the  stars  he  dug  holes  wherein  to  bury 
the  eggs,  and  marked  the  spots  with  stones ;  then, 
wrapping  himself  in  his  cloak,  lay  down  to  sleep. 
All  next  day  he  loitered  idly  about,  shunning  the 
gaze  of  every  wandering  Arab.  When  evening 
came  he  drew  near  to  the  palace  to  seek  for  food. 
To  his  horror,  the  box  had  not  been  refilled.  At 
first  he  hardly  realised  how  awful  was  his  plight. 
Then  the  truth  dawned  upon  him.  Ahmed  and 
Madam  Marx  must  have  been  arrested.  He  drew 
near  to  the  casino  and  stood  under  the  open  win- 
dows listening.  A  cold  shudder  ran  down  his 
back,  his  face  grew  pale,  and  his  lips  trembled,  for 


222  GREGORIO. 

he  heard  two  men  discussing  the  murder  and  the 
capture  of  his  friends.  An  involuntary  smile 
lighted  up  the  gloom  of  his  features  for  a  moment 
as  one  remarked  that  the  chief  offender,  the 
woman's  husband,  had  eluded  pursuit.  Then  he 
crept  back  into  the  desert  and  waited  for  the 
dawn. 

The  sun  rose,  fiery  and  relentless,  glittering  on 
the  waters  of  Aboukir,  and  the  cloudless  heaven 
blazed  like  a  prairie  on  fire.  At  midday,  when  its 
rays  fell  straight  upon  him,  his  thirst  became  in- 
tense, and  with  feverish  fingers  he  dug  up  an  egg. 
It  was  empty.  He  tossed  it  away  and  dragged 
himself  to  another  hole.  The  second  egg  was 
empty.  In  turn  he  dug  up  all  his  eggs,  and  all 
alike  were  empty.  Improperly  sealed,  scantily 
covered  by  the  sand,  the  water  had  evaporated. 
A  great  despair  seized  him ;  he  called  on  God  in 
his  anguish,  and  the  silence  of  the  desert  terrified 
him.  In  a  fit  of  desolate  anger  he  pulled  off  his 
cap,  and  summoned  all  the  saints,  Christ,  and  God 
Himself,  to  enter  it,  and  then  trampled  on  it, 
laughing  wildly.  Then  he  flung  himself  upon  the 
sand,  his  head  still  left  bare  to  the  pitiless  sun. 
He  knew  the  end  had  come,  but  there  was  not 
any  regret  in  his  heart  for  his  crimes,  only  an  im- 
potent dismay  and  anger  at  his  solitary  condition. 
The  thirst  increased  every  minute,  and  he  gripped 
the  sand  with  his  fingers  in  his  agony.  His  last 
word  was  an  oath. 

At  sunset  he  was  dead. 


GREGORIO.  223 

Two  days  later  Madam  Marx  left  Alexandria 
by  train  for  Ramleh.  There  was  no  evidence 
against  her,  and  she  had  soon  been  released. 
Her  own  trouble  scarcely  disconcerted  her;  she 
had  feared  only  for  the  Greek  in  the  desert.  The 
thought  of  his  agony,  his  hunger,  goaded  her 
nearly  to  madness ;  but  she  was  a  little  comforted 
when  she  remembered  the  eggs.  There  was 
enough  water  in  them  to  last  him  two  or  three 
days.  It  was  the  hour  of  sunset  when  she  arrived, 
and  she  instantly  set  out  desertward,  carrying  a 
basket  containing  wine  and  food.  She  had  deter- 
mined to  live  at  the  hotel  until  the  days  of  per- 
secution were  past.  The  heavy  sand  made  it  hard 
to  proceed  rapidly,  but  she  struggled  on  bravely, 
and  when  far  enough  from  civilisation  called  aloud 
the  signal- word  agreed  on.  But  no  one  answered. 
All  through  the  night  she  wandered,  searching,  till 
within  an  hour  of  sunrise ;  then  she  gave  way  and 
sat  weeping  on  the  sand.  With  daylight  she  rose 
to  her  feet,  determined  to  find  her  lover,  but  had 
scarcely  gone  twenty  yards  before,  with  a  low  cry 
of  grief,  she  knelt  beside  the  body  of  a  dead 
man.  In  the  half-eaten,  decayed  features  she 
recognised  Gregorio  and  knew  she  had  come  too 
late.  Undeterred  by  the  hideous  spectacle,  she 
kissed  him  tenderly  and  lay  beside  him. 

The  sun  mounted  slowly  in  the  heavens. 

The  living  figure  lay  as  lifeless  as  the  dead 
But  after  a  while  the  woman  rose  and  dug  with  her 
hands  a  hollow  in  the  sand.  She  heeded  not  the 


224  GREGORIO 

heat,  nor  the  flight  of  time,  and  by  evening  her 
work  was  done. 

Raising  the  body  in  her  arms,  she  carried  it  to 
the  hollow  and  laid  it  gently  down,  then  tearfully 
shovelled  back  the  sand  till  it  was  hidden.  So 
Gregorio  found  a  tomb.  Nor  did  it  remain  un- 
consecrated,  for  beside  it  Madam  Marx  knelt  and 
spoke  with  faltering  lips  the  remnants  of  the  pray- 
ers she  had  learned  when  a  child.  As  she  prayed 
she  watched  vaguely  a  steamer  disappear  behind 
the  horizon. 

The  khedival  mail-boat  Ramses  sped  swiftly 
over  the  unruffled  surface  of  the  sea.  At  the  stern 
a  tall  fair  Englishman  sat  looking  on  the  level 
shores  of  Egypt  and  the  minarets  of  Alexandria. 
With  a  sad  smile  he  turned  to  the  child  who  called 
to  him  by  his  name.  They  were  a  strange  pair, 
for  the  boy  was  dark  and  foreign-looking,  and 
there  was  something  of  cunning  in  his  restless 
black  eyes.  The  man's  large  hand  rested  softly  on 
the  raven  curls  of  the  youngster  as  he  muttered  to 
himself : 

"  For  her  sake  I  will  watch  over  you,  and  you 
shall  grow  up  to  be  a  true  man." 

So  Xantippe's  life  had  not  been  lived  in  vain, 
for  she  had  loved  and  been  loved,  and  her  memory 
was  sweet  to  her  lover.  Moreover,  Gregorio's 
dreams  of  wealth  for  his  son  were  to  find  fulfil- 
ment, and  the  sand  of  the  desert,  maybe,  lies  lightly 
on  him. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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